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THE MONTANAS 


OB 


UNDER THE STARS. 


21 Hontance. 


SALLIE J. HANCOCK 

II 

OF KENTUCKY. 


“A day, an hour, of virtuous Liberty 
Is worth a whole eternity of bondage.” 



» 5 

) > J 

NEW YORK : 


Carleton^ Publisher^ 413 Broadway. 


M DCCO LXVII. 


I 


■pz;^ 

M 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S66, by 
GEO. W. CAELETON, 

in the Clerk’s OlRce of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 

District of ISew York. 





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The New York Printing Company, 
8i, 83, aud 85 Centre Street ^ 

New York. 


- ! 


/ 


To 

OUR CIRCLE IN THE DEAR OLD HOME, 

IN 


THE DAYS OF OUR WAITING AND WATCHING 

FOR ONE 


WHO STOOD BY THE FLAG OF THE NATION, 
UNDER ITS STARS 

WAS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED BY HIS SISTER 


THE AUTHORESS. 



The Montanas. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ Spontaneous joys! where Nature has its play, 

The soul adopts and owns their first-born sway. ” 

Goldsmith. 

It was one of those spaces that ensue when Nature, 
wearied of the convulsions from which spring mountains 
lofty and grand, hills “ rock-riibed” and broken into ranges 
vast and far, comes down to repose for a while on smooth 
lawns and crystal streams, whose currents dash in wild- 
ness adown the steeps, then tamely ripple through an 
interval of gentle gliding on their journey to the distant 
sea. There, in one of those vales of quietness in which 
nestled the town of Way burn, where, after having given up 
our handsome house in New York, we came to live in a 
little cottage, around which the snow wrapped its great 
white arms in winter-time ; while the cheerful fire glowed 
and crackled on the hearth within, from which arose a 
genuine old-fashioned chimney of the Puritan times, where 
the swallows hold their summer revels to this day. I wonder 
if they missed me, for my childish hands had often fed them, 
when after our brief sojourn we three went away — one to 
the sunny, and two to the silent land ? Or if in their calen- 
dar there may be found any record of the time when first 


8 


THE MOXTAXAS, 


the echoless space reigned there grimly, as if in constant 
reminder of the voices that had ceased to speak as they 
were wont to speak, and now uttered words in tones that 
made the home music cheery to other time and place than 
these, when the merry cricket sang his season song by the 
hearth-side? Even now I never see a band of swallows 
cutting the sunshine with their dark wings but I think of 
Raphael, and how they were his only companions in the 
solitary house, where he lived with his memories of a beau- 
teous love-lighted past; and how he fed and cared for 
them at the last^ just before his great soul — emancipated — 
mounted the blue stairs to heaven where Julia was, with a 
footstep light as “ swallows on the wing.” 

The thoughts which come to me to-day are not alone of 
him or the swallows that he loved ; though I too loved them, 
for they were long the only tenants of my broken home. 
A memory lies far back amid the great billows of the 
past ; a calm space beneath a sky that was sweetly, brightly 
blue, and each season’s sun arose on flower-strewn banks. 
The tides of life broke stilly on those morning shores, and 
the golden days rippled by with a gliding tread that was 
half rest, half dream. I have often wondered if other 
homes were like this one of mine in the feeling and the pre- 
sence ; time has not answered my question satisfactorily. 
I know now how the bright links in the chain are apt to 
fall apart when misfortune comes, cutting into them with 
the sharp sabre of her discipline. And how wide asunder 
the hearts of the hearth-circle may become, when spaces 
of the outside world come in between. But I thought not 
these thoughts then, as I lay in the stilly nights looking 
from the windows of my little room, breaking the course 
of the moon from the flrst pale cold flicker of her empty 
cycles, to the foil glory of her perfection ; or pondering of 


THE MONTANAS. 


9 


the great untried world outspread under the stars ; and of 
the heaven that seemed so vast and so far. I never felt 
that we were poor, for I was so rich in all those attributes 
which tend so much to brighten life, and make it treasured 
in whatever sphere its altitudes may be cast. There was a 
genial warmth in God’s sunshine, and a glory in all things 
His hands had created. Oh ! now for the worship of that 
childhood time ! 

My father marvelled that I never repined at our change 
of circumstances, he was himself so sore at heart; and 
when I saw him bowing lower day by day, I began 
to feel very wicked that I did nothing to take the sting 
from his crushed spirit ; and grasp by one effort of the will 
all he meant, when he said to me that his “ last venture had 
failed him.” There was no change apparent in our house- 
hold, yet my frther came to be a laborer for his daily 
bread. Waybum had its manufactories, as have all North- 
ern towns, and at one of these he worked, growing each 
day more gloomy and morose. 

My gentle mother, too, suffered ; how good she was to 
hide the pain that was gnawing at her heart, and appear to 
sympathize with my gaiety of mood, which seemed only to 
wound and irritate him. Men so rarely understand their 
young daughters, though they often forgive the wildest 
freaks and the gravest incursions upon authority, if the 
error is perpetrated by a son. 

I had one female companion, Leah Eldridge, of whom I 
was very fond; we often ran riot in our garden grounds 
while my father sat silent, and mother looked on with an 
expression I shall never forget. There was such charity for 
our shortcomings, and such tender love in it. 

Oh ! where in after years do we find the heart that will 
hold for us these things like a mother’s ? 

1 * 


10 


THE MONTANAS, 


At such times Leah left me early in the evenings ; then 
I would brush my father’s scattered hairs, and pressing a 
good-night kiss upon the lips of each, would steal quietly 
to my little room and count the stars, until sleep came 
so softly to my pillow I half imagined I numbered them 
in dreams. Then at morning I would watch the sun, as 
with golden fingers he knocked at the portals of Mr. Kings- 
well’s great square house on the slope, just beyond our 
grounds, with its white colonnade, and mantling ivy, and 
broad sides encrusted with the lichens of years. It was 
pleasant to see the mists as they rolled like sheets of crystal 
ether from the summits of the New Hampshire hills, with 
their forests of cedar rising dark into the sky. 

In the early evenings, too, I loved to watch life at the 
great house ; its ebb and fiow ; its lights flitting to and fro, 
and shining in the darkness like my stars. How strangely 
came about my acquaintance with its inmates. I first met 
Mrs. Kingswell at the house of Captain Bob Eldridge ; so 
he was called by everybody in Way burn. Everybody 
seemed to know him ; the smallest child could have pointed 
out to the curious stranger the eccentric seafarer’s abiding- 
place. 

It was a tall, rickety, old domicile, very barn-like in ap- 
pearance, with very steep roof and weather-stained gables, 
to which were attached martin boxes of a peculiar style of 
architecture, around which the wind shrieked and howled 
most piteously in the chill seasons ; and a greenish slime 
choked the few simple blossoms that dared to lift their 
trusting heads, and look for summer shine in the atmo- 
sphere of such dense thickets of arbor vitse and box, whose 
lower limbs ran together in dense masses on the ground. 

Notwithstanding the exterior was thus unprepossessing, 
within were the marks of thrift visible everywhere; for 


THE MONTANAS. 


11 


Mrs. Alice was a tidy housewife, and Leah was swiftly 
growing into the ways her mother had striven to teach her ; 
so, despite one lowering shadow, this too was a happy 
home. 

Mrs. Eldridge had been for years an invalid. She seemed 
spirit-broken like my father. The ways of sorrow are 
common ways, and we fall into them very readily. 

Captain Bob was a cheerful fellow, very full of jokes and 
stale aphorisms. He came often to our house, and his 
visits seemed to cheer my father though they were short, 
and the evenings usually long ; yet his presence, however 
brief his stay, was a source of comfort to the old man. 
We love to have those about us who are well and strong, 
when we are weak and suffer. I say old, though my father 
was still young in years ; I did not then know that time 
is the last thing to blanch the cheek and silver the hair. 
There are bypaths to age much shorter than those through 
the years which we live upon earth ; those of grief and sin 
are briefest of all. 

Mrs. Eldridge was suffering more than usual, and Mrs. 
Kings well spent much time with her. Even then I had a 
vague presentiment, which afterwards became a certainty, that 
kind as was this lady to his wife, her visits annoyed Captain 
Bob ; and that he, of manner usually off-hand and careless, 
was restive and uncomfortable in her presence. Though I 
was surprised at the brusque tone of his declination of a 
courtesy so gentle, when she suggested that her husband 
would come down with her “ in the evening for awhile,” 
the Captain very gruffly thanked her, saying he would prefer, 
since she chose to come, that she came alone I The lady’s 
face flushed for a moment, but she checked herself in the 
manifestation of the slight feeling of resentment for the — 
“ eccentricity” of the old sailor. Yes ; she was actually 


12 


THE MONTANAS. 


charitable enough to attribute his manner to this source, 
and her face settled again to its usual sweet placidity when 
she saw the deprecating, pleading eyes of the sick woman 
fixed earnestly upon her. ‘‘ I will come this evening, as I 
promised to do,” she said, and left the house. 

Mrs. Eldridge ventured very timidly to expostulate with 
her husband after their guest had departed, saying : 

“ It is too bad, she has been so kind ; it was only this 
day she said it gave her such an unaccountable pleasure to 
be here. I was almost tempted to tell her why it was so. 
In my younger days I was much like William. There 
may yet be enough left of the old manner to have attached 
her to me. I wanted to take her in my arms and proclaim 
the tie that existed between us, but I dared not.” 

Captain Bob was usually kind and patient towards his 
wife, but now he seemed in danger of losing his temper, 
quite. 

“ Alice, are you a fool ? Excuse me, but have you no 
pride ; what would you receive from that man ? Did he not, 
in his letter of scathing reproach, bid you ‘ whatever came 
to pass, never speak to him, or seek to have him recognise 
you, for he should feel degraded by the contact ? ’ 

“ Do you expect me to receive here, in my house, the man 
who used such insulting language to my wife ? Am I to 
humble myself before this proud aristocrat ? He is rich ! 
I am poor I But my self-respect equals his, and I would 
rather die in want than play the despised suppliant to any 
nabob in the land. Just count Boh Eldridge out, will you ? 
N ot even for you would I do this ; and you well know that 
during our life together it is the first thing I ever refused 
which you asked of me, or even hinted would give you 
pleasure.” 

His voice had softened much before he uttered the last 


THE MONTANAS. 


13 


words. They were unaware of my presence in an adjoining 
room, -where Leah had left me while she went above stairs 
to fetch some prints they had brought from China. I felt 
guilty in thus listening to what it was not designed by 
either I should hear ; and was just on the eve of with- 
drawing when the wife’s gentle tones arrested me, so earnest 
were they : 

“ You have always been good to me, Robert, and kind ; 
but you are unjust to William. He, too, was good to me 
once, as he is to the^whole world now — of his friends and 
acquaintances. Those words of his — those written words, 
which struck us both so cruelly — were hasty; they were 
unlike any others that came from him ; and I have no right, 
knowing William as I do, to lay them up in anger against 
him. They were prompted by the first heated impulse up- 
springing from a deep sense of injury. Ask yourself if you 
would not have said more had you been in his place and 
he in yours ? ” 

Captain Bob hung his head, and though he did not 
admit that she was correct in the assumption of this truth, 
he certainly did not feel called upon to assert that she was 
wrong; he remained very sensibly silent while his wife 
proceeded : 

“ You are proud, Robert, and self-respectful. So am I ; 
but it has not been pride that has kept me, xVlice Eldridgc, 
from William Kingswell. Oh ! the bitter, bitter memories 
that have made such barriers between us. I only remain 
asunder because I could not early bear to be near him. 
Could I look him in the face, and have his eyes always say- 
ing to me, though his lips were never so silent, ‘ Ah ! Alice, 
there are two graves at your old home which, but for you, 
had not been made so early ? ’ I could never bear this, 
and that is why we have not met ; that is why I have 


14 


THE MONTANAS. 


blindly obeyed ycur mandate. Yes ; believe and forgive 
me, Robert, the only reason.” 

The Captain was visibly moved, and said in a tender tone, 
“ And did you love me, Alice, and are you sorry that you 
went away with me ! ” She turned her tearful eyes upon 
him ; the same dear love for him that always shone there 
was shining still. “No, Robert! not sorry I went, but 
sorry I stayed, I was so vainly happy in your love. I 
never thought how my poor, blind mother’s heart was break- 
ing for her wayward child. After I became a mother I 
could understand those things, and that was why I wished 
to come back, but it was too late ; they were gone, and the 
old home desolate. Though I would see William, Robert, 
before I die — go away never to come back ; just one 
word to tell me you consent.” 

He sat thinking, with his head upon his hand. I was 
thinking, too, perhaps it was better not. Sympathy can- 
not take the sting from the remorseful heart, however potent 
in alleviating sorrow., Leah came back at this juncture, 
and I heard no more save a few broken sobs at intervals, 
and then a heavy, low, deep sigh from Captain Bob ; from 
a soul that refused to be loosed from the torture-rack of 
its error. These are the most galling spirit-bonds, where 
reason and judgment assert a premise which will and in- 
clination utterly disclaim. Oh I had he but known, that 
rough, though kind-hearted man, how one little word fitly 
spoken would have opened wide the gates, through man’s 
pardon, to a just Cod’s; have taken off the dragging 
weight of a terrible life-long suspense from the wings of a 
noble spirit ; unsealed the close-shut fountains of tenderness 
in the heart of a worthy man ; taken girlish feet from out 
the ways of temptation, where the lines of her life might 
chance to fall, and the possibilities of sin, to place them on 


THE MONTANAS. 


15 


the heights where principle would hold them firm, and 
those, too, his child’s — his young daughter’s feet. And 
more perhaps than all this, taken a thorn from out his 
dying wife’s side; and strewn with beautiful flowers even 
the darkness of that death in whose lowering shadow he 
then groped. All this one little word might have done, 
and yet the summer went by for them. The harvest of its 
golden days was ended ; and that one word, under sun or 
stars, was never spoken. 

I remember one evening Captain Bob came round as 
usual ; he had left Mrs. Kingswell with his wife. He and 
my father sat talking, or rather he talked and we listened, 
until it was far into the night. This was his story, told 
feelingly at broken intervals, interspersed with such apho- 
risms as he always chose to season his discourses. Some 
strange caprice had unlocked the floodgates this night. 

“I think, Mr. Montana, a man should think long and 
seriously before he takes a young girl from her parents’ 
roof into the rough world with him, no matter how dear 
his love for her, or what the feelings which prompted him. 
It may do very well while the money lasts, but when 
wealth is gone, and health is gone — aye ! sir, ‘ there’s the 
rub.’ When I was able to support my wife in a style to 
which she was accustomed before, I was happy and she 
was happy ; but now, since we have fallen from that estate, 
she droops, and I have to see her failing day by day, and I 
cannot help her. Oh ! it is very hard, Mr. Montana ; very 
hard, sir.” 

He bowed his head, and I could see by the light of my 
stars that there were tears upon his cheek. Then he pro- 
ceeded as if talking in justification of himself : 

“ Though, in sooth, a less susceptible man than myself 
would have loved my Alice, for she was a beauty and no 


16 


THE MONTANAS. 


mistake. Our acquaintance was so romantic, too. I sat 
singing one afternoon as T watched the lowering quay — our 
ship had just come into port — one of my wild sailor songs, 
when she, chancing to pass that way, paused to listen ; per- 
ceiving the motion I sank my voice to its most melodious 
tone, and chanted rather than sang one of those old ballads 
which I had heard the Italians sing when steering their 
gondoliers by moonlight on the Arno. The song concluded, 
she passed on. I, charmed by her wondrous beauty, fol- 
lowed her at a respectful distance to see where she lived. 
Then I sent her flowers every day ; then it came to pass 
that she recognised me, and we exchanged notes at stated 
intervals ; and I knew she loved me, though she never in- 
vited me to call. 

“ I was not far wrong in my suspicions as to the true 
cause of my exclusion. She had many suitors — one, who 
was accepted hy her parents ; and she well knew they 
would never look with any degree of favor on me. My 
pride was hurt at this, for Bob Eldridge was one whose 
conduct had never been such as to exclude from him the 
right to stand up as the equal of any honest man, whatever 
difierence circumstances might make in their conditions. 
So I said to myself, ‘ There are pretty women in every port ; 
do not make a fool of yourself, Bob, about this one but I 
had grown to be twenty-five without having really loved 
any one, until Alice, with her sweet face, crossed my path. 
And the more I tried to forget her, the more impossible I 
found it to do so. I was man, too ; and there were both 
revenge and vanity in my nature. I resolved to marry her 
at all hazard. Her haughty friends would have looked 
down on me and called me plebeian, and I for this meant to 
set their authority and scruples at defiance. Then there 
were two or three young men, each of whom fancied him- 


THE MONTANAS. 


17 


self the favored suitor of Alice. I just thought how 
charming it would be to play a Spanish trick upon the whole 
ship’s crew of them ; and Alice readily consenting to my 
proposals, we were married on the vessel the very morning 
she sailed — Alice merely leaving a note behind to say 
she had ‘ found a protector who was better suited to her 
than any they could have selected.’ We neither of us 
thought >v^hat false construction might be and was put upon 
her hasty flight, until William Kingswell’s letter came to 
us beyond the seas. He should have known Alice better 
than it seems he did. No ; we never dreamed of this, we 
were so happy. I felt very like a prince to have that beau- 
tiful young thing clinging to me, all my own ; I, as she 
said, ‘ her only protector.’ And at evening, sitting on the 
broad deck with my arms around her, and the great sea 
heaving round us both, I sang to her the old songs under 
the stars, and thanked the Master who had held the helm 
in all the storms through which I had passed for His 
gift. 

“ I had always spent money very freely, but I had saved a 
very pretty sum, and for years Alice never wanted a luxury ; 
and it has been my pride to say that even in the darkest 
days of our reverses she never lacked a comfort. We might 
yet have been happy and prosperous in our home beyond 
the sea ; but after she heard of the death of her parents — 
she was tenderly attached to both — more especially her 
mother, who had been blind from birth, she seemed possess- 
ed of an uncontrollable desire to return to her native land. 
Then when we came to her old home, she could not bear 
to remain there ; so we drifted out here, and somehow 
we have been going down hill ever since ; for now I see 
that she is leaving me from day to day ; I have little heart 
to work, and seem to care very little about prosperity. True, 


18 


THE MONTANAS, 


there is Leah; but what will I do with the girl, and no 
mother to train and teach her ? ” 

Captain Bob looked down here. Again I saw his tears swift 
falling in the still, white moonlight, but he soon recovered 
himself, and then w ent on to say as though he had never ceased 
his narrative : “ I wish, though, that Alice had never insisted 
upon my coming to Way burn. I did not know until recent- 
ly it was because William Kingswell had located here.” 

“ Does he suspect,” said my father, “ that she is ” 

“ No, no ! and what is more, T do not intend he shall. 
My pride is too strong for that. His wife seems an angel, 
almost, and Alice is very fond of her. And they two have 
well-nigh upset my plans several times ; but why am I talk- 
ing idly on and on of the things which oppress me from 
day to day ? I must be going. You will not betray me, 1 am 
sure. Come back to work as soon as you are able. We 
want you ; the hands need a master-spirit.” Here Captain 
Bob laughed a rather hollow-sounding laugh at his own joke. 
As there was a heart of tenderness, so was there a broad, 
sunny area in the nature of this man — very commonplace, 
yet possessing attributes that isolated him from the majority 
of his kind. It was one of his most marked peculiarities 
that he never failed to see the point of his own jokes, how- 
ever blunt and imperceptible they were to others. Now 
he bade us adieu, and went singing down the road, thinking, 
perhaps, the effort at gaiety might take the weight from his 
spirits. Men are strange creatures ; they turn the by-paths 
to avoid sorrow, and when they must stand face to face 
with it, how they seek, by many an idle subterfuge, to es- 
cape from its circling influence. 

It so happened that I was ill for several weeks, conflned 
at home ; and when I was able to go abroad. Captain Bob 
made no longer a pretence of singing away the dreary 


THE MONTANAS. 


19 


weight that oppressed him; surely, now, there was no- 
thing left him but to face his woe. 

Poor old man, how I pitied him, sitting alone with Leah 
5n the solitary house. The wife and mother’s chair was 
empty ; from her earthly dwelling-place she had been trans- 
ferred to a house whose roof was low and narrow, and long 
and dark — close shut within four walls. There she slept, out 
under the clinging sunshine, under the stars — in her last 
house — the gravel The house for which the rich and 
mighty of this world must exchange their “ castles full of 
splendor,” and the weak and the weary find their first, 
long, dreamless rest. Ah ! as surely, too, was “ that vast 
sea which rolls round all the world,” bearing my loved ones 
on its bosom ; and upon the shores of youth and morning 
wave meeting wave, and the circle that runs its round with 
the race of man, came into itself again. To those that 
were going, gone, there was the boundless area of an im- 
mortal destiny; while to me, who loitered playing with 
the golden sands — and to the desolate old man in his soli- 
tary home, his motherless child clinging to him, and the 
waves, fiercer than those he had often ridden at half-mast, 
when the storm-clouds were dark and tides ran high, lash- 
ing him as he sat on the barren, beaten shore — this house 
was alike long and low and narrow and dark, when those 
we held most dear were locked in its grim silences ; and of 
all that had been to each of us, only this green-growing 
door, shut close until the resurrection morn, to drop tears 
upon. 

There the soul of youth and the soul of age kept tire- 
less watches of memory under the eternal stars. 


0 - 


20 


THE MONTANAS. 


CHAPTER 11. 

“ Love is not in our power, 

Nay, what seems stranger, is not in our choice ; 

We only love where fate ordains we should.” 

Fkoitdb. 

I ROSE quite early one morning, and walked out to my favor- 
ite kaunt on the strand. The sun, just rising, had stained to 
amber the current of the bright-flowing river, with its flood 
of golden beams. Long I sat in the still glory, as I was 
accustomed to do on mornings like this, tracing names 
upon the sand, and watching the light waves as they came 
up to wash them out. Soft gliding down the stream came 
a small sail-boat, light and airy as a swallow, cutting the 
smooth surface with her painted prow, in which sat a youth 
of most striking appearance. 

Turning his skifl* half round, resting on the left oar, he 
floated with the current near to where I sat, then sprang 
lightly on the sands. There was a grandeur on his face as 
he stood, the bright morning reflected from waves that 
kissed the shore at our feet, girding him about as with a 
retinue of sunbeams. He regarded me with a look half 
amused ; as he bowed with a grace so winning and courteous, 
I was undecided whether it were best to treat him with the 
frankness due a boy, or the reserve with which I would 
have received a man whose years bespoke for him a man’s 
prerogative of earnest civility. 

He wore a suit of spotless linen, silken half-hose, and 
slippers of shining leather, panama hat with broad black 
band ; his collar and wristbands were fastened with buttons 
it dazzled my eyes to look upon. These little details of 
dress I mention because they form a part of the strange 
mystic impression that fixed itself upon me then as pre- 


THE MONTANAS. 


21 


seiiting so striking a contrast to the sober, drab-apparelled 
youth of Wayburn. 

“ I fear I have interrupted your very pleasant occupa- 
tion,” he said, naively. “ It is a favorite pastime of mine ; 
1 love to trace names upon the sand, yet how soon the tides 
wash them out.” I am sure I blushed, for I was so con- 
fused I could make no reply, but sat heaping up the shining 
particles, my hands dripping with the surf. He added, 
apologetically : 

‘‘ I have few lady acquaintances in Wayburn ; I wish we 
could be friends ; I am sure that I should like you, now 
that I have found you here the presiding genius of wave 
and sunbeam — tracing names upon the sand. Why not 
write your inscriptions where they will be more lasting? 
Nature is an inconstant jade, for ever ringing in the dirges 
of her seasons. Do not trust her, she is faithless ; she will 
not teach us the lessons which, as sweethearts and lovers, 
we should know. They should wear the insignia of eternal 
truth.” 

I looked at him very quizzically, forgetting how embar- 
rassed I had been, thinking he must be a very precocious 
fellow to talk about love in any sense. I was as romantic 
as young ladies given to star-gazing and romance-reading 
are expected to be in their pinafore days. Yet it was dif- 
ficult for one of my ardent temperament to detect in the 
form of my cavalier one feature in accordance with my 
standard of a hero, who would probably talk about “ Woo- 
ing nature,” or “ sweethearts,” or “ lovers,” or “ eternal 
truth.” Nor in my humble estimate had an individual any 
right to aspire to such distinction who had not arrived at 
the dignity of his first beard, even though he wore diamond 
buttons of first water and lifted his panama hat to a simple 
rustic like myself with the grace of Adonis. I imagine he 


22 


THE MONTANAS. 


divined my thoughts, for he said, half seriously, half play- 
fully: 

“ Your ideas of love are circumscribed. To what age or 
condition does it specially belong ? What power has ever 
yet encompassed its vast range ? To childhood and youth 
it is one thing, to philosophers another, to painters and 
poets yet another, to the great heart of nature and humanity 
still another. There can he no standard sufficiently just 
and accurate to measure what is illimitable. Again, can 
love, a thing itself infinite, be reduced to system involv- 
ing form and law ? ” I felt that this youth, at whom I 
should have sneered five minutes ago, was entirely without 
the pale of my ridicule; being disinclined to measure 
lances with him, I terminated a brief fit of musing with the 
question, “ Do you live here ? ” 

“ No ; I am only sojourning at Way burn with my uncle, 
Mr. Kings well. New Orleans is my native place, and there 
I reside a portion of each year.” 

My feeling now was more than mere surprise 1 It was 
the wrapping about my Northern proportions the garb of 
sectional sanctity, in a manner that said, “ I am holier than 
thou ! ” From that land, reeking with the curse of Ca- 
naan ; that far away Sodom, which I had been taught to 
regard with horror, not by my parents but by teachers and 
ministers of the gospel, who looked at the evil through the 
spectacles of a fanaticism which lent no enchantment to the 
view. I pursed up my mouth with a very self-righteous 
expression, and bade my cavalier a cold good-morning ; 
with the same gi’aceful alacrity that marked his demeanor 
on landing, he fastened his boat and was by my side, ere I 
was aware of his intention, to accompany me home. 

“ Do you live here ? ” he said, as I halted at the piazza 
of our vine-covered cottage, the dimensions of which he 


THE MONTANAS. 


23 


had compassed in one hasty, indifferent glance. Now I had 
asked of him a similar question previously ; he responding 
politely and kindly. Why could not I do likewise ? Be- 
cause my eyes were blinded to one of those grand truths 
luminous as the sun in heaven. One of the lights shrouded 
with the dark mantle of prejudice might make for us, were 
reason and judgment permitted to rend the veil in twain, 
the radiance of a great peace in the glooms where a nation 
lies struggling, bleeding, under her stars I 

Perhaps, too, it was because I contrasted my humble 
sphere vrith his evidently superior position that I answered 
him with such bitter asperity. 

“ Yes, and my father is a day-laborer in yonder factory. 
You who are taught to look upon work as beneath the 
dignity of ladies and gentlemen — regarding those who in 
your esteem degrade themselves necessarily in the per- 
formance of any duty, as slaves are menial, I presume would 
scarcely have taken the trouble to escort me home had you 
known me as the daughter of such a one.” 

“ Then you mistake me very much,” he answered, with 
sudden dignity and not a little coldness in his tone. “ I 
was taught by my parents not to recognise between the 
people of any locality or the representatives of any race, 
distinctions, save those traced by the hand of God. There 
is no superiority save the majesty of mind, which gives 
dignity to any system, and asserts itself in any condition. 
It was this I saw shining in your face when we met. My 
mother was a Northern woman, my stepfather and present 
guardian is a Northern man ; believe me, we in the South 
think much less of these things than you affect to do. I 
fear, however, I am, guilty of unpardonable intrusion ; I 
hope you can forgive me ; I will promise not to offend again. 
Good-moming ! ” 


24 


THE MOKTANAS. 


Strange, strange, in the days that came and went, gc 
often as I would to my old trysting-place, I saw him no 
more; hut that one golden morning, with its brightness 
circling about him, shone in my life for ever after. Several 
times I saw him lying under the shadow of the great trees 
on the terraces of Ridgely. 

Time passed. I traced names upon the sand and the 
waves washed them out, until the summer was quite gone 
and the amber glow of late October was on the New Hamp- 
shire hills. Still my golden river glided on — on ; now under 
the bright sky of morning, now under the stars. Whither 
was it hearing me in my dream ? Why was it I sang no 
longer through the days, but pondered more frequently 
about our change of circumstances, and grew more into the 
home ways with a gentler care for all ? 

Even now as I look back I can find no place in the far 
sunbright memory for what came next. 

My father went one morning to his work as usual, hut 
soon returned pale and ghastly as a corpse. He sank 
fainting into a chair. My mother’s shriek brought Eleanor, 
our maid of all work, to her aid ; while I, stupified, lent my 
assistance in the application of such restoratives as we could 
command. We soon had the happiness of seeing him so 
much revived that by noon he was enabled to sit against a 
prop of pillows, and talk very calmly to my mother about 
the things he wished, and what it would he needful for us 
to do when he was gone. At length, after a long interval 
of sobbing, my mother said brokenly : 

“ May I not write to Clifford James, and tell him your 
true situation ? Perhaps, after all, it has not been the want 
of brotherly affection that has kept him from you ; it may 
be that the cares and the responsibilities of his Southern 
life have so multiplied about him, he finds no leisure for 


TEE MONTANAS. 


25 


the duties that once were pleasures. Let me tell him how 
your final venture has failed you, and the last eftbrt is 
fruitless.” 

“ No, no, wife ; he neglected me when my position was 
equal to his. I know not who was most to blame ; but I 
do know that one of those sectional barriers grew up gradu- 
ally and strong between our brother hearts. I railed at 
his slaveholding. He has requited my interference with 
years of silent, contemptuous indifference. I cannot now 
be brought to force my broken life upon his remembrance. 
He would not like to hear the sad story.” 

Oh, pride ! thou who dost build barriers between brother 
hearts and other hearts that love, in all the highways and 
byways of this earth ! thou shouldst have no place here — 
where one broken, sorrowing man is coming down with 
weary feet to the border-land of death — where his brother, 
too, shall come one day — down from, the high eminence of 
wealth and position, lowly as he should stand now by his 
side — though one should stay, and one go out into the 
unknown alone. 

Unable to combat these thoughts, for I had often re- 
gretted my father’s estrangement from his brother, I passed 
to my own room, where I could weep in solitude. Uncon- 
sciously I walked to the low window and looked out through 
tears of silent bitterness upon my bright river, golden still, 
in the autumn noonday. A light-hearted child, should I 
ever play upon its banks again ? Echo answered “ again ? ” 
— my heart responded — never, any more. 

I was closing the blinds when the Eidgely carriage 
passed with the Southern youth and Mary Kingswell, loung- 
ing gracefully on the cushions. Her fair face was shaded by 
a jaunty hat, and he held her hand in his. Why not ? 
— she was his cousin. Though somehow, the sight hurt 
2 


26 


THE MONTANAS. 


me, I shrank back peevishly, closing the blinds with a snap 
of the clasp, and returned to my father’s room. 

There I found Mr. Kingswell sitting by his side. I knew 
my father had sent Eleanor to his place of business for him, 
though I had not expected such promptitude in answer to 
the summons. 

“You are not well, Mr. Montana,” he said kindly, wiping 
from his brow the perspiration that chill autumn day, for 
he had come hastily, not knowing what need there might be. 

“ No, no — it is almost over,” answered my father com- 
posedly. “ I sent for you, sir, because I know you are the 
friend of the widow and orphan. I am sure you will com- 
ply with my request. I have a brother in the South ; 
there is no kindly tie between us. For myself I will ask 
nothing, but when all is ended for me here, you will write 
to him ; will you not, in behalf of my wife and daughter, 
solicit from him a home wEich I shall not be able to leave 
them ? There is a mortgage on this cottage which would 
more than cover what it would bring if disposed of now. 
That was the money I lost in my last unlucky speculation. 
You will be kind enough to attend to the sale for me ; there 
may be enough left to pay you for your trouble ; if not, 
God will reward you, sir; I am sure of it.” 

“ You trust Him then,” said Mr. Kingswell, searchingly. 
Tlie answer came tremulously : 

“ Yes, though only through Christ’s mercy have I hope.” 

“ Who of us dare hope for pardon on the score of our own 
questionable merit ? ” said Mr. Kingswell again, with true hu- 
mility. “ Trusting and feeling this as you do, my friend, while 
you hope for forgiveness through God’s great mercy, have you 
shown mercy and forgiveness to your brother ? — have you 
left any evidence that he was pardoned ; that the bitterness 
has passed away from ygur spirit ? — if so, ask of him these 


THE MONTANAS. 


27 


things yourself. I will transfer your messages, lerbal or 
written, to Mr. Clifford Montana — whose wife was one of 
my earliest friends — through my nephew, Clyde Ingram, 
who leaves for New Orleans to-morrow.” There was some 
pre-occupation in Mr. Kingswell’s manner, and the light of 
far-off memory in his patient eyes, as he added : 

“ I hope you will rest easy, my friend ; I will arrange all 
things as you have suggested.” He took my father’s hand 
with an expression almost divine resting like sunshine on 
his noble face ; he held it in that strong firm clasp which 
always springs spontaneously from great hearts, adding — 
“ You will try and write your brother, if only a few words, 
will you not ? ” 

There was pleading in his tones now, and my father pro- 
mised; he could not do otherwise. Who else with so few 
words could have effected a reunion between those widely 
severed hearts, and how was he able so to do ? Only be- 
cause there was that in his daily life which convinced men, 
thinking men like my father, of an eloquent fact : he was 
striving humbly and patiently to do God’s work on earth ; 
every word and deed gave strength to the conviction. From 
his apparent earnest desire to do good to his fellow-man, 
came the power with which he swayed my father. 

He left us then ; with my father’s last remnant of strength 
he wrote the letter to my uncle. When he had finished, a 
great peace came to him, and never left him any more — the 
issue was with God. 

Later in the afternoon Mrs. Kingswell came, taking from 
her carriage — the same carriage in which Clyde Ingram had 
ridden out with her daughter at noon-time — a I asket filled 
with delicacies to which we Vere unaccustomed ; for oui 
home fare was very frugal. With her own hands she made 
the tea, and beguiled my father into drinking a cup, which 


28 


THE MONTANAS. 


refreshed him very much. Wlien she took her leave, carry- 
ing with her the letter which her husband’s nephew was to 
bear with him on his homeward journey to the far South, 
there were many sunbeams glistening in the room, which I 
had not observed at her coming. My poor father looked 
after her, a bright, sparkling tear fell on my hand, holding 
his own, as he exclaimed : 

“ She is one of God’s angels of mercy ! Oh ! if her arms 
were long enough to embrace all she loves, they would be 
thrown around the whole world. How many come within 
the range of her care it is impossible to know, for she goes 
everywhere ; her husband’s means, without limit, are at her 
disposal. Many among the poor in this quiet town can at- 
test her goodness. Some that lie cold on yonder hill died 
blessing her ; many more live, saved by her timely aid and 
kindness.” 

Day after day she came and ministered. Night after 
night I sat looking out sorrow^fully at my pitying stars, 
and the pale, cold moonbeams as they gathered around the 
New Hampshire hills, around the sheltering house of 
Ridgely ; its terraces sloping down to where the river, not 
golden now, glided slow and grey between its locks and 
falls, until the liquid track was lost in mist and foam below ; 
— thinking of this death. 

It came at last. My father w^as borne along the shadowy 
road — shut in from our sight by the new-made grave in the 
cemetery just above Ridgely. I kept ceaseless vigil at my 
mother’s side, until she too, worn by anxiety and sorrow, 
sank to rest. 

After that I knew no more, for so long it seemed ; and 
even now, as I look back to that dark time, the events are 
confused. Of my mother’s going to sleep one cold, grey 
night, when there were no stars shining ; no music in the 


THE MONTANAS. 


29 


roar of the rushing river — going to sleep very soundly, while 
I watched — I have an indistinct remembrance. Then of 
Mrs. Kingswell coming at morning trying to arouse her, 
talking meanwhile to some strange lady about me, and how 
she said “ Poor stricken child ” as she took my hand away, 
for it was locked tightly in the cold death-grasp of my mo- 
ther. I seemed to hear the crashing, too, of the great door 
of destiny -svhich shut me out into the world of loneliness 
and orphanhood. 

After that the weeks seemed a blank, for I struggled with 
brain-fever, and it left me no power to remember. I am 
very thankful the sorrow of that summer season has not 
lingered with me ; for oftenest when I go back to the days 
when I lived with my parents in the cottage at Way bum, 
the same blue sky is over them, and at nightfall I looked 
to see the old stars shining, with their gentle, then sorrow- 
ful radiance. I can recall too, the dark, earnest eyes of the 
handsome youth, who even then looked into the deeps of 
my soul with the eyes of destiny. At other periods the 
sky of memory is overclouded ; then I see only two graves 
and a lot cast amid the richer flowers of a southern land. 
Flowers that blossomed brightly once. Now they will 
bloom no more ; for a deluge of blood has swept them 
away. With hearts young and warm and brave, which, too, 
have sunk beneath thy crimson tides, 0 revolution ! 

Can it be that upon the darkness which shrouds their 
last sleep, a nation’s stars refuse to shine ? 

Aye ! but God’s stars do not withhold their radiance, and 
I will, of many, keep bright and glowing the memory 
— for I loved them — still love them — and feel assured 
that he is able, and will awaken them to all the beatitudes 
of a perfect peace. 


30 


THE MONTANAS. 


CHAPTER III. 

“ Oh ! there are tones and looks that dart 
An instant sunshine through the heart ; 

As if the soul that minute caught 
Some treasure it through life had sought.” 

Moore. 

A GREAT blank succeeds in memory ; the sky of stars and 
river gliding goldenly under the bright morning and calmly 
under the clear arching noonday. An overwhelming con- 
sciousness of desolation succeeded the long journey which 
I made in company with Mrs. Montana, who I could 
scarcely realize was my uncle’s wife. On arriving at her 
magnificent home I was ill again for a long time ; when 
convalescence came lingeringly, it was difficult to grow 
familiar with my new surroundings. 

Every tie binding me to the old life seemed utterly 
broken. I was sensible through the misty dimness of the 
presence of many who were kind to me ; but my poor 
heart was dumb as my lips, and made no response to any 
save the lady who had taken my hand from a dead mo- 
ther’s clasp — it seemed to me — ages before. 

Among the visions which floated up in the strange be- 
wilderment, there was one with form and curls that clus- 
tered like morning light about the beautiful head ; a sweet 
face bent over me often, and cherry lips called me sister; 
but as yet I could make no answer, the old wounds were 
bleeding too profusely. 

One afternoon I seemed to waken, soul and sense, as 
from a long, restless lethargy. Windows were wide open, 
and the delicious aroma of a thousand flowers came to me 
^like the resurrection of buried summers. I could only 
weep in unison when I heard the fall of a fountain near 
with a liquid murmur like trickling tears. I was puzzled : 


THE MONTANAS. 


31 


could it be that I bad slept while that long winter of grief 
bad passed into tbe spring ? While I mused, a face — the 
face of my morning dream at Wayburn — appeared, to look, 
as be thought, upon my unconscious rest. At this junc- 
ture a bright-eyed mulatto girl came from her post of duty 
to inquire if I wanted anything. I did not ; nothing that 
she could give me : I only wanted to think and to be rid 
of her presence. I dismissed her by saying “my head 
ached, and I should prefer to be alone.” 

“ Lord bless you. Miss, I wouldn’t dare to leave you for 
a single minnit: Miss Stanley rode down to town with 
young Mars, and she gave me my orders to stay right here 
in this room until she came back.” 

I was about to inquire who Miss Stanley was, when the 
lady herself looked in at the open door. She wore a jaunty 
riding-cap of blue velvet plumed with white, and her curls 
rippled in waves of gold upon the rich blue of her habit. 
With light footstep she came to where the mulatto stood, 
and spoke softly in tones as silvery as the murmuring 
fountain without : “ Has she been quiet since I left, Haw- 
sey, and have you waited upon her well ? Are you sure ? ” 
she added, surrendering to the girl her whip, gauntlets, etc. 
“ Yes, marm,” was the creature’s only response to the seve- 
ral inquiries of her mistress. 

Stanley retired briefly to her own apartment for the 
purpose of changing her costume ; she reappeared clad in a 
dress of flowing white. Coming to my side as I lay with 
my thin hand shading my tear-wet eyes, she kissed me, 
supposing me to be asleep. The little caress thrilled me 
through and through; I clasped her in my arms; my 
heart had broken the chains of its stern silence ; hence- 
forth, from that day and hour, she was my best-beloved, 
mv soul sister. 


32 


THE MONTANAS. 


Frcim her lips I learned that she was my cousin, the 
daughter of Uncle Clifford Montana. She had one bro- 
ther, with whom she had ridden that afternoon ; she called 
him Ray ; and another, who, though no relative, was in 
truth all of a brother and more : her mother’s stepson. I 
asked her mother’s former name. Edith Ingram. 

I lay quite still now, holding her hand in my own, which 
trembled a little, from physical weakness of course ! Edith 
Ingram, the face I had seen at my window, then, was no 
dream. The odor of flowers, and murmur of the fountain ; 
the soft luxurious atmosphere ; the almost fabulous splen- 
dor of the room in which I lay, was so strange ! Yet the 
break in my life was still yawning widely at my side ; a 
gulf never to be recrossed. But the flower-strewn vistas 
of a new life were open to me — outstretching where ? Ah, 
who could foresee that ! 

I closed my eyes, still holding those tiny hands of Stan- 
ley, saw my stars arise from that long night of pain, count- 
ed the sands upon far-away shores that I had left, and the 
youth who came adown the stream in the morning light ; 
saw my golden river gliding — gliding as it chimed its rip- 
ple with the murmuring fountain, flowing outward until it 
seemed to mingle confusedly with the roar of the sea. 

All these things were present with me often ; and during 
that tardy convalescence Stanley was beside me always. 
When I was strong enough to walk, Clyde Ingram came to 
escort me below stairs. Upon his young arm I leaned 
during those flrst tottering steps about the beautiful grounds 
of Claremont. He had adopted a singular system of re 
taliation for the hospitality I had manifested towards him- 
in my own land. I saw that he remembered it ; for he 
really seemed to take pardonable pleasure in thus heaping 
coals of fire on the defenceless head of his ancient enemy 


THE MONTANAS, 


33 


He was too generous, however, to vaunt his triumph in my 
present weak state of mind and body ; that would not have 
been politic. How handsome he was ! more so, even, than 
I remembered him ; and the light of genius, grand and glo- 
rious, beamed from every lineament of his classic face, and 
burned in his deep, clear eyes. Afterwards, whenever I 
walked, Clyde or Raymond was at my side. That summer 
was like a wandering amid the flowers of fairy-land. Old 
misunderstandings, arising from prejudice, were forgotten, 
and oh ! we were all so happy together. In the autumn we 
separated ; Stanley and myself were sent away to school, 
Raymond and Clyde went to a German university. 

We met not again for four years ; years of study, of men- 
tal and physical development for all of us ; to Clyde and 
Rajunond, years of classic research amid time-stained re- 
cords of the ancient masters for treasures that other years 
could not dim. Meantime, Stanley and myself, busy in 
acquiring more superficial accomplishments, thought most 
of their return. 

To Claremont those four springs came soft and dreamy as 
the first one I remember there. The summers, too, glided 
by with calm quietness as by-gone summers at Way bum 
were wont to do. Autumn came gently to the last of these. 
October had kindled her fires in the dark line of forest ris- 
ing high into the lurid sky, tinged with the gleam of 
boughs glancing brightly in the red sunshine ; rich flowers, 
preceding the fall, blossomed everywhere. The birds sang 
gaily as in spring-time ; voices came spftly from beyond 
the grey expanse of sea, so plaintive and subdued, they 
seemed the echo of golden harps swept by the fingers of 
unforgotten dead. 

This was the season in which Clyde and Raymond came 
back. I had parted very tenderly from my young cavalier 
2 * 


34 


TEE MONTANAS. 


four years previous. He had told me, with a look in his 
great, earnest eyes which I shall never forget, “how he 
would miss me when the sea rolled between us.” I had 
treasured those words till the coming back. Now they 
were returned, cousin Eaymond — our frank, handsome 
Kay — ^had taken me into his arms and kissed me again and 
again ; Stanley and Clyde greeted each other, meantime, 
no less warmly, yet when the latter came to me holding out 
his arms I could not for my life have gone into his embrace. 
There was something in the face and manner of the tall, 
elegant young man, so removed, so different from the boy 
with whom I had parted, abashed, I shrank back in silence. 
The same earnest eyes pleaded, “ Have you no greeting for 
me F ” Only for an instant, then the look of surprised in- 
quiry passed ; then one of pain was succeeded by an expres- 
sion of wounded pride. He glanced at Eaymond — his 
face flushed, then grew white. Well I knew how his sensi- 
tive nature had withdrawn into its own grand proportions, 
though these mute evidences were all that he gave of hav- 
ing felt a slight that cut him to the soul. This was not our 
first painful misunderstanding — would to Heaven it had 
been our last ! 

Winter came and passed, just touching with frosty finger 
the flowers and grasses ; but the ice-king found no welcome 
in this balmy tropical clime when he would have girded it 
about with frozen chains. 

It was morning, dewy and crisp, in the spring succeed- 
ing. How fragrant the aureole breath ; how _ the amber 
sunshine wrapped us in its folds as we stood in the grand 
arcade of our Southern homestead waiting — Stanley and I, 
patiently as even the most exacting might expect us to do, 
while holding in strictest remembrance certain innuendoes 
which a gentleman, Clyde" Ingram — of whose tardiness we 


THE MONTANAS. 


35 


were the amiable victims in the present instance — ^had cast 
at us in days that were gone for delinquencies of like nature ; 
which even those most addicted to fault-finding could but 
decide was not a circumstance compared to the delay which 
had kept us in an urbane, state of “ durance vile ” for the 
space of half an hour ; during which probationary season 
we had paid due court to sundry reflections and refractions 
of our persons in the mirror of the escritoire ; each suc- 
ceeding glance only serving to confirm the original impres- 
sion that no improvement was necessary. Being thus 
fortified with the opinions of two ladies of taste and judg- 
ment, we cajoled ourselves and each other into the belief 
that we were looking quite as well as it was possible to do, 
the style of each subdued by a drab travelling suit surmount- 
ed by a hat of similar hue, when Clyde made his smiling 
appearance, announcing his entire readiness to depart. 

The astounding fact would under other circumstances 
have called down upon his guilty head a tirade of raillery 
— an indulgence quite dignified and fashionable in these 
days. I cannot tell how it happened, the aforesaid scolding 
Clyde did not receiv-e upon that day or any other ; for each 
had its own record of such enjoyments on his part, yet I 
am sure he remembered gratefully long afterwards that he 
was minus one tongue-lashing. Perhaps it was because we 
knew he had been in Aunt Edith’s room in close conference 
with her, for we saw tears upon her cheeks when she came 
out to us ; scarcely less dear than her own manly boy was 
to her this son of his dead father. 

Then came the adieux upon which I will not linger; 
suflBce it to say Stanley and I were in imminent danger of 
having our self-sustained verdict reversed ; for a gushing 
shower of drops had almost washed the roses from our 
cheeks ere we became conscious that this time Clyde was 


36 


THE MONTANAS, 


the martyr, not the patient one we had been either, as lie 
stood tapping his patent leathers with a spray of catalpa, 
and whistling an air from Lucia de Lammermoor, in the 
interval of directing servants who were loading the 
baggage. 

I speak advisedly ; for so ponderous a quantity of lug- 
gage rarely falls to the honest portion of two unpretending 
young misses of the modest dimensions of Stanley and my- 
self. Finally the last article was safely deposited ; from the 
two-story trunk, in a capacious comer of which we might 
have buried ourselves after the capricious fashion of Ginevra 
— should fancy have dictated so grave a course — to the 
brown paper parcel quite Dichens-onian in appearance, con- 
taining sandwiches and other elements of comfort wrapped 
in a snowy napkin which peeped suggestively from the 
willow basket which Stanley persistently refused to abandon, 
influenced by private injunctions of mine, and fortified with 
a colored legion headed by Aunt Dinah, who I think 
religiously believed that travellers’ salvation depends upon 
sandwiches. I am furthermore assured, upon the best 
evidence, that the old lady’s idea of the peace and comfort 
of heaven lies in the hope that she may find plenty of 
sandwiches there. She had been the faithful slave of the 
Ingrams during a long lifetime; yet I do not believe I 
should be doing her injustice to assert that should a shadow 
of doubt regarding the truth of these views, in strict adher- 
ence to which her head had grown white, cross her mind, 
she would prefer remaining for ever within the immediate 
vicinage of these creature comforts, to being emancipated 
in a region where they were not. 

Our cavalier rebelled at the sight of the basket ; but all 
his protestations and the most comforting assurance of 
cofiee by the way, could not annihilate one of Aunt Dinah’s 


THE MONTANAS. 


37 


blunt straightforward arguments in favor of the sandwiches ; 
so he yielded reluctantly and came back to where Aunt 
Edith stood. After pressing the last kiss upon her lips, 
he entreated her again and again to take good care of 
herself — she was not so well as she had been — and expressed 
an ardent hope to find her better on his return ; a hope 
which found a dim sad echo in my heart, for I had a pre- 
sentiment that in this world Aunt Edith would never be 
strong and well any more. 

“ I will not forget,” he said, in his deep, rich voice, 
“ what you have said to me this morning, mother ; I shall 
treasure your words — I will take my place in the world’s 
front ranks, and cause you yet to feel that your tender care 
of my infant years was not misplaced.” 

He spoke these words with his strong arm around the 
frail form of the woman who had held him in her true 
heart, and loved him as her own ; somehow he seemed the 
only tie between buried years and a love whose loss she 
mourned still— a tenure yet so strong ; though the mists of 
another separate life had fallen, the radiance was not wholly 
dimmed. A fitful gleam of the old fire was in her heart, 
and the light in her eyes was for him alone ; Stanley and I 
had no share in it. He saw it too and felt it, for he caught 
her in his arms again, as though he would keep always the 
love that was pouring out its last riches upon us on earth. 
But ah ! the angel love that would be ours for ever ! 

Perhaps it was the electric power of this sympathy — my 
part of a common grief — a joint sorrow, that caused the 
touch of Clyde’s hand to thrill me as he handed me after 
Stanley into the carriage, and took his place beside me. I 
never have seen him look as he did then ; the dim shadow 
of future years was in his deep eyes ; a sure foreboding of 
impending bereavement shone from out their depths. He 


38 


THE MONTANAS, 


neither saw nor felt our presence — of course we chose not tc 
remind him of facts so apparent — only waited with an un- 
defined perception that a world of ambition was belted by 
that little space of thought. 

As we passed the curve in the road, and the trees which 
one by one like silent sentinels of the morning hid Clare- 
mont — dear, lovely Claremont, and the pale spiritual mother- 
face from our view — the face that had shone as the sun in 
his childhood, we ceased to remember it would not always 
shine for us. When the full glory of the day burst upon 
us, the shadow was gone ; for youth is buoyant and san- 
guine, prolific of many sources of enjoyment. We turned 
our faces towards the city, whose spires stretched heaven- 
ward to the God who looked upon it, all astir in the morn- 
ing light; and the blue gulf stretching far away to its 
ocean boundary, the river with its myriad fleets paling in 
the sweet May sunshine — heard the drowsy murmur of the 
breeze, the hum of bees, and the distant song of the lark 
from groves of palmetto and larch, reaching a dim wilder- 
ness of sea-green from the east windows of Claremont to 
the gate of Sunrise. 

Crushing the shells of the beautiful lake-shore road 
beneath the wheels of our ponderous carriage, we soon 
found ourselves upon Canal street, incorporated with vehi- 
cles uncompromising as our own. We waited some time 
in front of my uncle’s bank, surrounded by the tumultuous 
din, ere the august dignitary made his appearance. During 
years of Southern life, he had not become a devotee at the 
court of its customs, or learned to take things easy. At 
length he came out, a pen behind his ear, spectacles upon 
his head, his hand full of exchanges which he transferred to 
Clyde for our joint benefit. He then bid us a hasty good- 
by, adding the pleasing information in anything but an 


THE MONTANAS. 


39 


amiable tone — Eaymond tired of waiting for us^ and had 
gone somewhere, he knew not where ; but of one thing he 
was certain, we should miss the train if we went to look 
for him. He thought, however, it would be well enough 
to call at the Saint Charles, then drive speedily to the 
depot, as though such a thing were possible, until we had 
been emancipated from that thronged thoroughfare — Canal 
street. We did not find Eaymond; we scarcely succeeded 
in reaching our destination, having girded on an armor of 
the defensive and “ run the blockade,” successfully edging 
our way through jostling crowds, almost deafened by the 
sounds of preparation for departure, undergoing the neces- 
sary preliminaries — passing through the routine with the 
pleasant consciousness of having left one of our party 
behind. 

Scarcely had we taken our seats, when Eay sauntered 
into the car whistling with that air of careless abandon^ 
half reckless, half self-dependent, which sits so gracefully 
upon Southern youth to the manner born. His face was 
radiant beneath the leghorn hat^ sitting jauntily upon his 
curls. He crushed the tendrils of my hand in his finn 
grasp, and kissed Stanley vigorously, as a brother might be 
expected to do such a sister. 

“ Just in time,” he exclaimed, as the sharp click of the 
engine drowned the thunder-tones in which the conductor 
vaunted to us the startling fact, that we were “ all aboard I ” 
the clang of the bell reiterating an assertion which was 
barely a verity, so far as our party was concerned. 

Eaymond remai-ked how very narrowly the pompous in- 
dividual in shining hat had escaped telling a fib. Then 
we all laughed merrily as participants in the earnest drama 
of a frantic rush could laugh, whose triumph was so hardly 
won. Our mirth was succeeded by a pensive quietness ; as 


40 


THE MONTANAS. 


the train crept softly through the suburbs, we with one 
accord turned to take a last view of Claremont. 

The May day was very full of memories of our days to- 
gether there, never to be forgotten ; there were long loiter- 
ings upon the bright green hillsides, and flower gatherings 
in the valley sunshine; there were hand-clasps remembered, 
and words of kindness from those who had so brightened 
my orphan life, treasured in that season during which we 
four had lived and loved together ; to whose dewy morning 
time, weary and awed by the greatness of the after-pilgrim- 
age, we turned so often back from the dusty highway, upon 
which a burning sun of actualities had risen to that period, 
when with fresh hopes and fresh hearts we enjoyed life- 
times in the lightness of one summer’s radiance and the 
fragrance of its flowers. 

On and on we passed, more swiftly now ; and when the 
sun of that day of our departure from Claremont was 
merged in noon’s fierce heat, the loved home with its groves 
of bright-winged birds, its shadowy walks, and the lonely 
mother’s eye wandering through them ; the city with its 
towering spires and gilded domes ; the river with its 
painted fleets, and gulf, whose mists were all cleared away, 
blazing like a silver sheet passed to the ocean — all these 
which we saw at morning were soon far behind us, so we 
cast dreaming to the winds and surrendered ourselves to 
the pleasures of the moment. The monotony was varied 
by snatches of sweet carolling from Stanley, interlarded 
with fragmentary bursts of eloquence from Kaymond; 
varied by an occasional recitation from myself, who, for the 
most part, was delighted to play auditor while Clyde re- 
called some trifling though interesting incident of their 
life beyond the seas. I was very often interrupted in ray 
quiet enjoyment, to parry for Clyde, who was shrinking and 


TEE MOITTANAS, 


41 


sensitive, some acrimonious shaft aimed by Ray in his 
merriment ; though oftentimes for hours together my stra- 
tegy was held in strictest requisition to defend my unoffend- 
ing self against some merciless prank perpetrated by this 
common enemy of our peace. 

How charming we found the little incidents of travel, 
including sandwiches, lemon pies, etc. ; and the strangest 
thing of all, was to observe how much Clyde enjoyed them, 
notwithstanding his torrent of opposition, which Stanley 
and I had bravely stemmed in order to bring them. But 
then he could not have heard Aunt Dinah mutter in her 
triumph, at the close of the successful contest with Mars 
Clyde, the very plaids of her turban starting from the 
fabric, and quivering with separate wrath : 

“Sense he done been of to dat German Varsity and 
lamed to be so grand as to do widout etin’ hisself, he thinks 
everbody else ort to do it to. Them are chillen haint been 
raised to no sich notions ; lor’ knows ole Dinah hopes de’ll 
never git no furrin’ lamin’ in their blessed heads ef it makes 
’em kind o’ crazy like.” 

No ! he could not have heard at the time this aside of 
the old lady’s, or, in very respect to her memory, he would 
surely have desisted ; if not in consideration for our pam- 
pered stomachs, at least in charity to himself. 

And thus time passed during the pleasant days of our 
journey until the mornings, with quick, sharp breath and 
atmosphere altogether new and strange about us, proclaimed 
that we were in a northern land — the land of bright rivers 
and calm skies ; of brisk, busy life for old and young ; of 
patient work alike for all. 

Our pathway lay for miles along the shores of Seneca 
Lake. 

“ This,” said Clyde, “ is the lake storied in song. I re- 


42 


THE MONTANAS. 


^ember, during a season north at my uncle’s, hearing a 
strange legend of this little body of water. Owing to its 
cold, crystal purity, which preserves bodies from decompo- 
sition, its dead are never raised., but held firmly in those 
pristine deeps awaiting the final resurrection. In direct 
contrariety to scriptural affirmation, ‘ Dust thou art, to dust 
thou shalt return.’ ” 

“ Which assertion is verified in few instances,” Raymond 
answered ; “ for illustration : do you remember, Clyde, 
Avhat we were told by that old monk when we visited a con 
vent on the Seine ? He said the poorer classes of the Pa- 
risians were permitted to rent graves for their dead only 
during the space of three years; at the expiration the 
bodies were exhumed to give place to others. In those 
long contested battles during the Napoleonic conflict which 
convulsed all Europe thousands were left to blanch upon 
the field unburied.” 

“ God grant the red hand of war may never fall upon our 
nation,” exclaimed Stanley, fervently. From the depths of 
our four hearts in chorus came an earnest amen. 

We fell into a reverie befitting time and place. We saw 
the sun go down into the deeps, smooth, glassy, and dia- 
mond clear ; it seemed as if no storm of earth could ever 
• mar it, or even the tiniest ripple break its halcyon calm ; I 
thought it like some natures whose capacity was unrevealed, 
externally placid, yet far down lay power strong enough 
either to madden or destroy while thirsting for gifts they 
never seemed to care for. The natures that are always mis- 
understood rarely love, because ever feared ; the natures 
which never appear to sufier, yet sufier most. Such was 
Clyde Ingram — our brother Clyde. 

That sunset was like the waning of the sun of some gor- 
geous dream ! Each separate beam multiplied by a bun- 


THE MONTAKAS. 


43 


dred others upon the silver surface, until the face of the 
deep was lighted by a glow of crimson, curling into waves 
of molten sapphire, then melting away into mists of opal 
and amethyst. Ah ! how rarely and radiantly beautiful it 
was under the enchanted spell. We gazed upon the pic- 
ture until the forms of the trees lengthened and the shadows 
of twilight gathered about it; then from behind those same 
trees, whose proportions in the still gloaming lay dark upon 
the water, the bright moon of May rose up in her splendor, 
mirroring palaces of amber whose tall spires glittered and qui- 
vered, broken by the waves in the sharp breath of evening, 
growing less and less as the night queen climbed higher up her 
ladder of stars, until at last the shadow of summer, of wood- 
land, was quite gone ; then there was only the moon with 
her night train fiill orbed, shining from the heavens and 
from the crystal surface of the deep. 

llow mute wxre the spirits of the morning ! For a long 
time silence reigned almost audibly. Stanley’s fair brow 
rested on Ray’s shoulder, and moonbeams were playing 
with her bright hair. There is in my memory to-day a 
picture — that summer lake and sweet moon beaming around 
above, below, and the strange look upon Clyde’s face, which 
I did not rightly interpret then nor fully understand until 
years had dragged by their slow length of days that were 
each burdened with the anguish of a fearful mistake. When 
he turned to me, holding out his arm in intimation that I 
should rest as Stanley had often done in its clasp, I thought 
he only did so from pique that she had shown this prefer- 
ence for Ray, who was so wont to prefer him to her bois- 
terous brother ; so I turned away as though the motion 
and the look in his dark, soul-full eyes was unseen, to the 
landscape dark with fir and hemlock, for we had left the 
lake with its mirrored stars and summer moonshine far be- 


44 


THE MONTANAS. 


hind us. I drew my victorine closer about me and shud- 
dered in the night gloom. I might have seen him shudder, 
too, if I had not felt the chill of other memories which had 
their birthplace in the region of our present touring, creep- 
ing into my heart. Into those darker musings there glided 
a shadow, one which, as Dickens would say, lay on my 
heart with no dark and shuddering chill, but was cast by an 
object in itself so pure and holy that the shade seemed only , 
a subdued brightness and the light which cast it a glory. 
But a shadow it was, whether it had its origin in fact or , 
only in my thought — of unrequited love. 

Clyde sat wrapped in the impenetrable armor of reserve 
into which my caprice or Stanley’s indifference had 
plunged him, looking out upon gliding forests so dark 
that not even one ray of a May moon’s brightness could 
^ pierce their gloom, with a far-off gleam on his fine face, 
like a statue of the old time, the dim light from car lamps 
falling in spectral glamour upon sleeping forms about us. 
Stanley too was sleeping, smiling through her dreams ; the 
brightest beams gathering where she sat, and wrapping her 
with a chastened glory like the robes of the redeemed. 

On the morrow we arrived at Waybum. There, half 
hid by the vines, was the cottage, and just beyond the red 
square brick house, with dark solemn firs dotting the ter- 
raced grounds ; below, the town outspread with its neat 
yards and daintily set fencings ; afar off the New II amp 
shire hills with agricultural products climbing their steep 
sides. Everywhere were these little white nests of homes 
so close beside, yet each eloquent of individuality and 
redolent of that sweet presence without which the most 
costly and elegant structure is but four walls and a ceil- 
ing. 

The sun was hanging on a sharp spire of the tall church 


0 


THE MONTANAS, 


45 


balcony when our train arrived, passing all dusty and 
panting into the depht. We occupied the carriage which 
we found awaiting us, and were soon en route for Mr. 
Kingswell’s. 


CU^VITER IV. 

“Know then this truth (enongh for man to know), 

Yirtae aJone is happiness below.^ 

Pope's Essat ox Max. 

The shadows of twilight descending tinted into flame witl 
rays of the sinking sun of the flir away South, with its 
groves of orange and palmetto, had enwrapped Claremont 
in their misty folds when we came in this same twilight 
up the slope to Ridgely. It is impossible to imagine two 
localities more utterly at variance in point of stylo than 
were these two. Way burn and its vicinage savored of the 
brisk Northern presence which creates more than enjoys ; 
hospitality is regarded in the light of social duty rather 
than an impulse. The atmosphere was one of business. 

Mr. Kingswell came to meet us down the tan-bark walk 
with its neatly shorn sides — a handsome man still ; and 
there was in his greeting such brisk heartiness which made 
us feel he must once have been fiery and impetuous like 
the youth in whose charge we repined and suffered. We 
were met on the threshold by his ladylike, self-possessed 
wife, who did the honors gravely yet cordially. Iler kind 
eyes lingered upon my face, seeming to say, “ You have 
changed a great deal;” but they had not; they looked 
exactly as on the morning when he lighted the sweet 
torch of peace which illumined the mazes of the estrange- 


46 


THE MONTANAS. 


ment between my father and Uncle Montana, in whose 
house destiny had made my home in the sunny land far 
away from old scenes and friends. 

What pleased us most was the perfect understanding 
existing between Clyde’s uncle and aunt, manifest in many 
ways beside the mute suggestions for our personal com- 
fort. It was evident to us that between those two, who 
had loved and wed in youth, there was but one heart ; 
and that same love-light and youth-light was on their 
faces still, subdued and chastened, the after radiance which 
comes when the storm and conflict with the world had 
been triumphantly passed — this calmness the victory. 
Stanley and I made this disclosure to each other upon 
retiring to our chamber for the purpose of refreshing our- 
selves with bath and siesta, being weary and travel-worn 
with the long journey; which, to our everlasting credit be 
it said, we did upon that occasion with remarkable dis- 
patch, making our appearance promptly at the late tea 
which had been arranged for our convenience. We found 
the young gents on hand as they usually were, sitting with 
father and daughter within the radiance of the home-light 
on the piazza. 

Mary Kingswell was lovely ; fair like Stanley, with the 
sweetest face it has ever been my pleasure to see ; there 
were roses, northern roses, upon her cheeks, and the home- 
light too was in her beautiful eyes as she came forward to 
greet us with a soft, deprecating grace so far removed 
from the languishing hauteur of Southern manners — mo- 
dest, timid, yet there was earnest truth in it. 

Raymond’s quick eye observed it, and Stanley, too, with 
that delicate intuition by the aid of which we recognise 
kindred attributes, saw it as readily. Conventionalism is 
well enough ; there are many persons in intercourse with 


THE MOyTANAS, 


47 


whom it would be intense pain to go beyond forms ; they 
are a siifeguard in many instances, a refuge from the scr- 
i vile element with which emancipated minds could not as- 
! similatc, any more than a ray of sunshine could be a part 
! of the dusty highway it warms and brightens. The puerile 
resort to these to disguise native deficiency ; yet true charac- 
ter has a self-centred sustaining dignity above such com- 
monplaces. It towers supreme, lofty in the consciousness 
j of man or womanhood, far removed from such necessities. 

I It was thus in this instance, ere twelve consecutive sen- 
r tences had been spoken by any one of us, Mar}*^ had taken 
! her place in our four lives — separately, yet relatively — an 
I indindujil though a joint possession, to have and to hold, 
i to joy and tnisting and love to the uttermost. Grovelling 
I spirits cavil because unable to understand that mysterious 
I system of blessed recognition which binds the lofty of the 
earth in one glorious brother and sisterhood ; who behold, 
flaming in the higher radiance, signals marking God’s 
chosen, when they hear the mystic watchword spoken ; 
ties grow strong in one short hour, as though riveted with 
trust, and cemented by an intercourge of years. There is 
in truth a freemasonry befween those who wear the insig- 
nia of that higher life of the soul ; who have unfettered 
thought, and come to hold converse with spirits of sublimer 
truths than the world in its every-day reaches can grasp or 
fathom; who look upon life from the stand-point of a 
higher purpose, meaning nothing more than doing God’s 
work on earth, with a patient, steady out-look of will and 
energy, creating while they perform ; thus filling full the 
measure of each day with good deeds and generous actions. 
The kind of life which infuses serene content, and has in 
it something of the spirit of the Great Master. Thus it 
was in this family. 


48 


THE MONTANA^ 


When we sat down to our first tea with them at Ridgely, 
we felt as if we had always been acquainted. 

I learned, in the course of the evening, that Captain Boh 
Eldridge was living still, all alone, in the rickety old house. 
Leah, it seemed, had been deceived by Fred. Seaman, a 
young fellow in Wayburn, of whom I had often heard her 
speak during our childish life together. The father, hard 
and unforgiving, had shut close the doors of his home and 
heart against the poor, motherless girl, who had gone out 
into the wide world friendless. Bitter tears fell that night, 
as I lay looking upon the little white cottage from the win- 
dows of Ridgely ; for her who had been my childhood’s 
friend, thus fallen and forsaken. Winding my arms about 
Stanley’s neck I fell asleep, not counting the stars as I had 
so often done, but I knew they were shining still, as of old ; 
then prayed, even in my dreams, that poor Leah, betrayed 
and stricken, might by their sweet life find way to some 
quiet nook of peace, far from the broad highway of sin, 
into which her feet had strayed. 

Ah ! those were sunny days, and sunny are the memories 
of them. It was Majj^ then, it is May now ; though be- 
tween the reality and the memory, six long weary years 
are lying, yet not one golden beam has gone from their 
primitive brightness. I feel assured they will shine on until 
we all shall meet, perchance, in some sweet Maytime of the 
hereafter. The snow lies cold upon the May fiowers to-day, 
but has blighted none of those blooming in that fairy past. 

Each hour was full of enjoyments ; those two calm 
spirits planned every species of amusement for us. One 
day we made a pilgrimage to the hills opposite, the river 
lying between. Ray gave to Mary his strong arm, Clyde 
escorted Stanley, and it became my pleasant portion to be 
led up the rocky heights by the kind, firm hand of Mr. 


TEE MONTANAS. 


49 


Kingswell. I am sure I never passed a day so pleasantly ; 
his wonderfully fine taste, blended 'vsdth poetic impulses, 
was so heightened by his geniality, and tempered by cor- 
rect judgment; his views on any subject, whether it in- 
volved the discussion of Fine Arts or the manufacturing 
interests of his section, were so far-reaching, so lucid,' so 
characterized by sterling worth and sense, bearing unmis- 
takably the stamp of sex, his society was to me a perpetual 
source of speculation and wonder. 1 was unprepared to 
find this degree of refined intelligence coexisting with 
such thorough and eflUcient business capacity as I had 
always heard attributed to Clyde Ingram’s uncle. 

We were seated on one of the grassiest slopes, hundreds 
of feet above the level— crowned with sunshine like a dia- 
dem— observing the mist as it gathered about the spires of 
Waybum, and gloamed in vales below ; there was a shim- 
mer in the air — it seemed as though the very rainbow 
danced ; thus completing one of the most gorgeous scenes 
I ever beheld. Tears gushed from his eyes ; not for the 
grandeur and beauty of what he saw, but because he loved 
and venerated the source from wlience it sprang. We sat 
silent a long time. At length Stanley came to us, her 
young face radiant, wild flowers dimpling the waves of her 
sunny hair. “ Mr. Kingswell,” she exclaimed, will you 
assist Jennie and myself in climbing this last slope? the 
boys arc too indolent for further exertion, but I feel unwill- 
ing to rest until I have gained the highest pinnacle.” 

“You would have figured well as a politician, Stanley, 
upon my word, and would have appeared more advantage- 
ously than I do now; behold me, nephew,” he added, 
turning to Clyde, “a blush rose between two thorns.^'* This 
he said with a quaint exhibition of humor, taking the hand 
of each of us. 


3 


50 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ Thanks to the presiding genius of my lucky destiny foi 
having transferred one of them from my side to yours, 
uncle,” answered his affable and accommodating relative. 

“ Spoken with characteristic generosity ; that spirit of 
self-congratulation would commend you anywhere,” Mr. 
Kingswell said, with a shade of sadness in his tone. He 
felt, I question not, that he would rather face the universe 
at contrariety than feel the sharp wounds of those little 
friendly arrows. Men who know the world and understand 
the nature of true friendship rarely deal in them ; they 
grow kinder, more considerate for the feelings of others 
' with the passing on of time. 

‘‘ I doubt very much if my nephew, notwithstanding his 
grave aspersion of the several attributes of these young 
ladies in whom he avows so reluctant a proprietorship, 
would under any consideration manifest a willingness to 
transfer said thorns to the side of a younger, handsomer 
man than I am,” observed Mr. Kingswell sententiously. 

I glanced at Stanley as our peacemaker closed his sen- 
tence ; her eyes had wandered from the rainbow-tinted 
valley to the mists gathering in the dim distance beyond ; 
seeming afar off as the future which is with us while we 
dream of its coming. How strangely witching she looked 
— like a wood-nymph she looked then ; I wondered if 
Clyde felt her loveliness as I did. Yes, I think so ; though 
he lay on the grassy slope looking so provokingly indiffer- 
ent I half questioned if a score of handsome women could 
have moved him to animation, until he raised his fece to 
mine ; then I saw a look of faith, of doubt, and inquiry pass 
over it, the shadows haunting his “ lucky destiny,” which 
told him then and there the time would come when each 
would leave him — one from choice, the other from a cruel 
misunderstanding which would blight all her life ; yet to 


THE MONTANAS. 


5r 

the last how fearlessly in spirit would she cling to him, 
lie arose finally, offering his arm to Stanley with mock 
pomp and hauteur ; we made the ascent, enjoying the view 
more if possible than those preceding. 

Descending after we had indeed climbed to tte highest 
peak, my escort stumbled suddenly upon a shapeless mass 
of something — ^kind heaven, was it a man ? I should never 
have recognised God’s image in the mutilated semblance 
upraised by the firm ann of Mr. Kingswell, and supported 
tenderly as if he had been an infant while he led him slowly 
down the path to a house near the riverside. “ I could not 
have done that,” said Raymond, his voice betraying intense 
contempt for the man, who was beyond all consciousness of 
what was passing. ^Ir. Kingswell answered gravely : 

“ Ah ! my young friend, when you shall have come to 
know this world as well as I ; have felt its rough corners 
rub hard against you, and been pierced with sharp angles 
of its fate ; realize how full to the brim of temptation it is, 
and snares and pitfalls for the unwary ; when you have been 
brought in swift, unsatisfying contact with all classes of 
men for forty years, you will have learned to feel no con- 
tempt for any error generating in the weakness of those 
who know not the way of strength. Conscience at some 
time or other inflicts the reprisals of justice ; inevitable 
suffering succeeds, and penance is the final result I confess 
I have little patience with those who err when every vaster 
consideration is on the side of right, circumstances conspir- 
ing to hold them firm ; but knowing as I do the heights 
from which men fall — from which that young man fell — the 
fearful odds against him, I thank my God that I have not 
been tempted as he has been I He too was upright once ; 
only two short years ago. Let us not vaunt our strength ; 
who shall say what wrecks we may not become, crashing 


52 


THE MONTANAS. 


amid ‘stem rocks’ on a ‘pathless sea,’ through which a 
worthy divine has told us lies the narrow way through 
mortal endeavor to immortal destiny. He loved a worthy 
girl who was poor and lived under the same roof with him, 
performing household duties for his parents, who were 
wealthy ; he wished to marry her — they refused ; he per- 
sisted — when with imprecations they drove her from their 
presence. Her father was old, depending entirely on the 
wages she received for his support. When he found she 
had lost her place through an ill-conceived attachment, he 
was very angry and sent her away. After having sought 
vainly for work, she left Way burn in the hope of being more 
successful elsewhere. Fred followed her ; but did not find 
her, I think, for he soon came back. Maddened by the in- 
justice of his parents to the girl, and his own despair, he 
plunged recklessly into dissipation, and is this day what you 
have seen him.” 

“ The girl ? ” I asked, breathlessly. 

“ She has not been heard from since. But to return to 
this boy ; he is in truth a noble fellow, and has ever been a 
favorite of mine : I have wept tears over his downfall, and 
would give almost everything I possess, for power to reclaim 
and see him stand up God-fearing, self-reliant, looking the 
man that he is.” Here we paused at the residence of Mr. 
Seaman. 

“ I shall leave you here, Frederick,” said Mr. Kingswell, 
kindly. Somehow, the intoxicated man was not so stupidly 
unconscious as he appeared before. He turned towards his 
benefactor with an uncertain expression upon his bloated 
features, though mingled with the shame there written. I 
traced a gleam of grateful emotion as his swollen eyes en- 
countered my own. There must have been horror in my 
look, notwithstanding all that had passed ; for I recognised 


THE MONTANAS. 


53 


the betrayer of my friend Leah with an anguish too deep 
for w'ords. 

Darkness was gathering upon the face of the waters as 
we recrossed the river to the home shore. ^Irs. Kingswell 
sat waiting in the Ridgely carriage to tiike us home, where 
we found a fragrant tea awaiting us. How happy we 
were! how wretched those two wandering “without the 
pale.” Oh 1 did not kind Father eyes from that far heaven 
look pityingly upon them — knowing how they had lost 
their way in the darkness ? Was not Ilis the heart which 
prompted the sublime response to sorrowing Magdalen — 
“ Neither do I condemn thee, sin no more.” 

There were re-unions planned for us in which all Way- 
bum participated. The elite came by dozens to call upon 
us : very soon Mar^^’s fragile card-basket was filled to over- 
flowing with solicitations from every available source. We 
decided to accept an invitation from my mother’s distant 
relative Mr. Solomon Uayne, who was occuppng his sum- 
mer place at Way bum. While the rest talked of him, 
speculating upon the probable return from Europe of his 
bachelor son Warren, Mrs. Kingswell and myself, apart, 
conversed of my mother. I have so often thought of the 
good lady’s words on tliat occasion. 

“ If on earth we tmly love a human being, it is because 
we feel and know him to bo worthy our affection. Esteem 
is a necessary appurtenance to the durability of affection : 
we have seen those whom, though brilliantly accomplished, 
we never could have loved, because their inner life held 
not this prolific germ. There are others — passed away, long 
hidden from our sight, of whom we never think without a 
gushing wave of buried tenderness, which calms the tumult 
of every-day life like a benediction.” 

It was thus we remembered my mother in heaven these 


54 


THE MONTANAS. 


many years. I really felt grateful for the warmth with 
which I was received and welcomed into strange house- 
holds for her sake. Those who knew her best while living 
in their midst, who were her daily associates — ever referred 
to her as having been loving, patient ; never faltering in the 
hard way which fate had assigned to her. The circle was 
held together by her memory as it had been brightened by 
her presence. All was sadly changed since then: some 
had prospered, others had not ; some had grown grey in 
the hard world’s service : many I missed who claimed my 
childish remembrance — who, like her, had “ gone the way 
of all the earth ! ” None, I rejoice, had grown so sordid or 
avaricious with accumulated wealth and care, as to deny me 
this one bright spot amid the vast wilderness of all the 
past : in the land which held my mother’s grave, the heart 
of her orphan child was sunny and light. 

We were ushered into the midst of a brilliant assem- 
blage that evening, when the Ridgely carriage left us at Mr. 
Hayne’s. Our host and hostess, in consequence of urgent 
solicitation on our part, had accompanied us, as we were 
to leave them on the morrow. They were not participants 
in the gaieties on this occasion ; but did not object to having 
their child mingle in the festivities. Christianity was to 
them a divine power lifting itself above forms — wholly 
independent of externals; religion that was bigoted or 
intolerant, could not coexist in the atmosphere of their 
unpretending piety. How this simple goodness charmed 
me ! And what reverence I was daily growing to feel for 
the inmates of this household, with the glorious spirit of 
love in their midst; the great love which circles all objects 
with its munificence — a power, a possession, which even 
the least of God’s creatures shared. In that family we 
first learned to pray ; at early morning and quiet evening- 


TUE MONTANAS. 


65 


time, the father had knelt with us — a calm peace on his 
brow ; he wore it now amid these scenes : I think the great- 
est tumult could not mar for an instant the holy serenity 
of his spirit. 

After we had paid our respects to Mr. and Mrs. Hayne, 
and interchanged the necessary pleasantries with that cour- 
teous lady and gentleman, we were mo\dng away, when to 
my surprise and pleasure I beheld cousin Warren standing 
amid a group near the centre of the room. He joined me 
immediately after. A cordial greeting was the result, during 
which he held my hand between his slender fingers, his 
large dark eyes wandering often to* Stanley, who was 
promenading with Clyde. That reminds me I have never 
yet essayed to describe my heroine. Perhaps I have de- 
layed thus from consciousness of the extreme difficulty 
involved in the undertaking. 

The sunbeam and sweetest strain of the thrush ; the soft 
whispers of slowly coming spring, which steal upon you 
with lulling, indescribable charm, a thrill to the soul, a 
connction to the sense — are things that may be felt but 
never delineated. Such was Stanley Montana’s beauty; 
being of that rare type defying all description, whose charm 
is infinite variety — not so much a personality as a very 
subtle presence, which made itself manifest without the aid 
of any embellishment whatever. She carried with her and 
diffused her own peculiar atmosphere; all who breathed 
were filled with sweet exhilaration in her circle ; the very 
essence of the charm crept stealthily along the fibres of their 
being — a sensation none were likely to forget. Her features 
were singularly perfect, though her eyes of dark ocean-blue 
were the most wonderful creations of all 

I had never seen her look lovelier than in the snowy-white 
which showered about the very essence it seemed of her 


50 


THE MONTANAS. 


spirit’s virgin purity; white was ‘Stanley’s favorite dress 
Now her curls fell over shoulders fair and round like waves 
of sunlight. Then her eyes — ^how I have gone down into 
their depths with my own, to find rest in that true soul as 
yet unwarped by earthly contact ; a grand soul, the mirror 
of her woman’s heart, where all of love and affection that 
was divine shone forth ; an avenue through which may be 
obtained glimpses of the immortal. 

Warren said as he crushed my hand, “Why did you 
never speak to me of this peerless creature ? I have never 
met one looking so youthful — empress-like as she appears.” 

“She is distantly allied to the Haynes,” I answered, 
saucily ; “ that circumstance may in itself be sufiicient to 
elucidate the problem of her surpassing loveliness.” 

He smiled his old imperious smile, which I loved best to 
see upon his kingly face ; then answered while his eyes 
followed Stanley as she glided through the intricate mazes 
of a polka quadrille in progress, which she and Clyde 
danced admirably together. This, diversion had been one 
of our favorite amusements at Claremont ; it was strange to 
see it in vogue at Wayburn, so quiet and puritanical in its 
usages once. 

“Some of the city fashions the Haynes had brought 
from New York with them,” remarked Mrs. Seaman, the 
ill-conditioned wife of a church deacon, who had become 
sufficiently reconciled to this fashion to become a spec- 
tator in this instance. Warren smiled again as I remarked, 
“ What cannot be cured must be endured.” 

“ I observe you have not lost your propensity to be sar- 
castic, Jennie ; as a child you were exceedingly cruel to me ; 
I find you unchanged. Tell me, in your sunny home have 
you ever thought of our pleasant days together in New 
York ? How uncle’s decision that he would reside in Way- 


THE MONTANAS, 


57 


burn broke into our arrangements ; afterwards you became 
a recluse. My friend Milverton hjis not forgotten you ; he 
speaks of you often, and has sent you messages through 
the medium of my letters, to which you never once re- 
sponded.” 

I heeded not his reminder ; my heart had gone out into 
that school-time with the bereavement which ensued; I 
thought of the two graves in the cemetery near by, their 
white stones gleaming in summer moonshine like spectres 
of the old days. Warren had been so unfortunate as to 
sweep these chords of bitterness. Now taking ray hand 
caressingly he led me towards the sitting-room ; I made a 
deprecating gesture when he would have taken me to the 
piano ; instead, we passed into the garden, treading its paths 
in the shadowy night — through clustering dewdrops that 
shone like diamonds, flashing back the starry radiance in 
which we walked. 

“Now, Jennie, you must tell me something more about 
this Hebe cousin of yours. How long do you remain in 
Wayburn ; where w'ill be your next lialting-place ; and 
when will you transplant your southern lily to her native 
bowers again ? ” 

“ You give me no time to answer one query ere you ply 
another. Stanley is the only daughter of Uncle Clifford 
^lontana. We leave Wayburn to-morrow, go to Boston, 
Nahant, and home in September.” 

“ ^Vho is the young fellow with whom she dances ? ” 

“ Clyde Ingram, her mother’s stepson.” 

“ Ah ! yes, I understand ; I learned from Aunt Hayne that 
she was accompanied by a most devoted suitor, who really 
monopolized her. Arrived at Wayburn I was regaled as 
usual with the gossip of the place ; heard the merits of 
your beautiful cousin discussed before you came this even- 


68 


THE MONTANAS. 


ing. Tell me, Jennie, is it trae that her father is seeking 
to negotiate for her a marriage with him because he is 
rich?” 

I felt that the pain at my heart was suddenly checked by 
this trite conclusion to his interrogatory : something very 
like angry defiance flashed into my face, when I saw the 
lofty expression of triumphant disdain in the magnificent 
eyes of my cousin Warren; though in his courteous tones 
there was moderate surpiise affably expressed — nothing 
more, in the words he spoke now : 

“ Her suitor, is he — indeed ? ” There remained nothing 
for me save a course of repentance for my hasty wrath, 
then to laugh immoderatel]^ at his diplomatic quietus upon 
my intended defence of Clyde. Warren too laughed, each 
knowing why the other laughed, though no further inter- 
pretation of our risibility was vouchsafed by either. By 
and by Warren said very tenderly : 

“ You are a strange girl, Jenny. I shall be more cautious 
about looking for my proposed triumph over this. Quixotic 
rival, if such I may consider him, especially when I have an 
auditor who is ready to convert my glance into an imaginary 
dagger ” 

“ And your cool disdain into an impossible conquest,” I 
answered, thus concluding the sentence in a manner foreign 
to his design. Then we passed into the house. 

Stanley was seated at the instrument, singing with Clyde 
an invocation to the South ; words and music were her own. 
We managed to get a position amid the throng of listeners, 
near the singer. I have never since seen my cousins look 
as they did that night. Stanley fair and beautiful as the 
angel of a dream ; Warren showing how he felt all the 
witchery and power of her loveliness. His soul bowed 
down, wrapt in humble adoration, while those slender, child- 


THE MONTANAS. 


59 


ish fingers swept its chords as none else had ever swept 
them — the wild, sweet strains would linger with him, doubt- 
less, until he heard other strains very like them from angel 
fingers come over the cold, grey waters from bright harps 
beyond. 

When she had ceased singing, he crept reverently to her 
side, thanking her in such courtly tenns and with such mani- 
fest pleasure. As I looked upon my proud cousin, I could 
not help feeling keenly the distinction between what he 
have heen^ and what he was I — a disciple of that selfish 
class of worldlians, whose higher impulses are invariably at 
the mandate of interest, who worship at the shrine of that 
inexorable Mogul — Mammon I 

We met my cousin again; he joined us at the early 
breakfast prepared at Ridgely for our especial benefit, before 
leave-taking, in which he too participated, lie went his 
way, and we went ours, missing very much the kind voice, 
genial manner, and handsome face of Warren llayne. 

0 

CHAPTER 'V. 

“ In many wayi does the full heart reveal, 

The presence of a love it would conceal.” 

Coleridge. 

Almost immediately upon our arrival at the Tremont, War- 
ren paid his respects to us ; he had lingered at Waybum 
only long enough to telegraph his intention to his fiither, 
who he knew could readily supply his place, in the event 
of a protracted absence. It was evident he had decided to 
become one of our party, though far too gentlemauly to 
think of monopolizing Stanley’s society to the exclusion of 


60 


TEE MONTANAS. 


Clyde, wlio was her legitimate escort, though he never 
failed to join us in the evenings, no matter where he went. 
He invariably preceded us to the Opera. On entering, we 
were sure to behold him in some conspicuous place, often 
leaning against one of the sculptured columns, ostensibly 
much absorbed in the performance. However, even through 
his well counterfeited semblance, it was manifest that his 
indifference was unfelt; that he was silently drinking inspi- 
ration from Stanley’s mystic presence, while she, in her 
touching girlish beauty, was wholly unconscious how this 
world-serving man, with stealthy tread, was treading the 
avenues of her young heart — a heart from her earliest child- 
hood so loyal to Clyde. Thus, in a few brief days were 
swept away “ the ties of long, long years.” 

One afternoon, returning from a shopping expedition 
with Raymond, I ran across the corridor to Stanley’s apart- 
ment for the purpose of displaying some new purchase in 
which she was interested. She stood before a mirror, roll- 
ing over her taper fingers the wavy bands of golden hair, a 
picture of unconscious loveliness, her eyes lustrous — dreamy ; 
such misty splendor, such trusting fondness, in their 
depths. She turned suddenly, beholding me, cast her amis 
about my neck, blushing with a consciousness that I too 
felt, for I held no place in her reflections then. The room 
was filled with the odor of jasmine clusters and tea roses. 

“ See my flowers ! ” lifting from the window-seat where it 
stood without the Venetian blind, a goblet of silver elegantly 
chased ; inclosed within a beautifully wrought device on one 
side, was the little word “ Stanley.” Somehow there was a 
blur in the air about me, as I inhaled the fragrance of those 
flowers. 

“From Clyde?” I asked with apparent indifierence, 
stifling the dull pain at my heart, to which of late I had 


TEE MONTANAS. 


61 


grown so accustomed, crushing it down as unworthy of me 
and of our friendship. 

“ I imagine they came from Mr. na3me,” she answered 
firmly, though with endent emotion. 

“ Was there a card ?” I persisted. 

“ A blank one,” was her reply. 

My mental query Was, why did she suspect* him of hav- 
ing sent them ? Only because in her secret heart she would 
have been pleased most that he was the donor of this beau- 
tiful gift. It was like his delicacy, I mused in pursuance 
of the thought ; he would not openly address Stanley, 
thinking Clyde her suitor. Or else — a terrible suspicion 
crossed my mind — would he, by these indirect means, in- 
veigle himself into her affections without making in return 
the slightest concession or giving her the faintest hold 
on his ? 

These were Warren’s old tricks — heart-breaking had been 
his favorite pastime. 

“ To kneel at many a shrine, 

Yet lay his heart at none.” 

I could have brought forward numberless epistles from 
various members of the circle to which we were attached, to 
say nothing of the convincing and convicting record of his 
own lithe pen, recounting innumerable victories between 
the ages of seventeen and twenty-seven, as proof positive 
that my assertion was correct. I should have told her then 
and there to beware I There was a bright, bright structure 
forming under heaven that some cruel hand would shiver 
to atoms; gaudy tissues weaving which a breath of fate 
would scatter so widely, at the inevitable mandate of other 
time and place, that neither might ever again find that 
which was lost in the days whose golden sands we counted 


62 


/ 


THE MONTANAS. 


during tlie pleasant time of our sojourning there together. 
God grant such loss may not stand clear in heaven. 

Clyde saw and felt this as I did, and fearing it was War- 
ren’s intention to trifle with Stanley, he haughtily held him 
aloof as one unworthy his esteem and confidence. I attri- 
buted this feeling to the sorrow he experienced in Stanley’s 
manifest preference for Warren. He spoke more and more 
coldly to his rival: with secret misgiving I beheld this 
silent antagonism growing up between them. I sym- 
pathized deeply with all parties, though fearful of being 
unjust to cousin Warren, whom I liked sincerely notwith- 
standing his many faults and ficklenesses ; I resolved to keep 
my own counsel, leaving to God the issue. 

One of my cousin’s favorite pastimes was to promenade 
the long hall at the hotel, his princely head inclined for- 
ward, making the outline perfect. It was thus always, 
and thus I ever remember him — walking and waiting — in 
other days, when we came not in answer to his summons. 

He often invited Stanley to accompany him alone to the 
theatre and other places of amusement. On such occasions 
Clyde invariably appeared restless and wretched. I pitied 
him, and sought to mitigate his suffering and cheer him 
with my simple songs and talk as I had often done at 
Claremont, when my endeavor was less vain than now. 
Once he seemed so grateful for the effort, which he duly 
appreciated, he was almost happy ; his face actually softened 
into the pleasant smile I loved so well and had not seen for 
so long. He was almost transformed one evening when I 
passed to his side, indulging in the old habit of shaking 
hands on bidding him good-night. He said suddenly, 
speaking with vehement eagerness : 

‘‘ Aljean, have you ever loved ? ” The hot blood rushed 
to my cheeks ! What right had he, Stanley’s sorrowing. 


THE MOKTAKAS. 


63 


disappointed lover, to question me thus? I was turning 
away when I caught the anxious expression in his face. I 
could not be unkind, so I answered, half recklessly : 

“Yes! I have loved, but my love is unrequited; none 
will ever know ” 

He shrank back into his wonted silence with the look of 
white anguish his face had often worn of late ; then I left 
him, regretting the next instant my hasty avowal, since it 
had seemed to recall with such force and bitterness his o^vn 
burden of wasted aflfection. 

On the following afternoon Clyde accompanied me on a 
tour through the city in search of an article Aunt Edith 
had specially requested us, if possible, to find for her. 
Raymond was engaged in the execution of commissions for 
Uncle Montana ; Stanley had gone driving with Warren. 
Clyde knew that there was no one else to escort me, other- 
wise 1 think he would have declined. His manner towards 
both Stanley and myself had changed very much since the 
acquisition of Mr. Hayne to our party. I sometimes fan- 
cied he imagined us both in love with Cousin Warren, who 
compelled us by force of example to treat him with due 
consideration — a belief which I rather encouraged than 
otherwise ; anything sooner than he should come to know 
and feel my secret love for him. 

Ever since that strange interview he had been more dis- 
tant than ever ; now he appeared very patient while I over- 
looked, a.ssorted, matched, and purchased interminable par- 
cels for the benefit of the household at Claremont. During 
the measurement of a robe designed for Aunt Edith, he 
selected a silk Marie Louise blue — just the color of her 
eyes — brocaded with tiny sprays of lilies of the valley, for 
Stanley. While it was being wrapped up, I myself having 
added the trimmings, I heard him sigh heavily once or twice. 


64 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ Are you not well, brother ? ” I asked, compassionately. 

“Yes, very,” he answered, in a strange, husky voice; 
“ but, Aljean, I wish you would not call me brother ever 
any more. I do not care to have you mock me thus.” I 
was speechless with surprise and pain ; I could not even 
inquire what Jie meant by those strange words, until he 
added : 

“There is a beautiful lavender of similar pattern; will 
you wear it ? ” Did he think by this assumption of the old 
manner to obliterate from my mind the memory and effect 
of his capricious and cruel speech? I determined not to 
let him see how deeply that one little sentence had wounded 
me ; when I responded there was no pain manifest, only 
bitter sneering in my tones. 

“ No ; I thank you, Mr. Ingram, I never wear lavender ; 
it is unbecoming my complexion.” 

“ Select your own color ; here is any shade you wish.” 

“ I shall not make a selection,” I said, with angry vehe- 
mence. His sarcastic answer pierced me like an arrow : 

“ Who has objected to your accepting and wearing my 
gift ? I have the right to ask, for some one has of late 
influenced you against me strangely.” 

“Your questioning, sir, I consider unwarranted by my 
refusal to accept what you offer. As this is from Stanley^ 
you can compel her to answer you ; she who has the right 
to object to your interrogating me, if she choose.” 

“ My sister ; yes, she has the right, but would not avail 
herself of it ; she has more consideration for me. I shall 
be well content to feel assured Mr. Hayne has not the 
right to demur to her acceptance of the little purchase I 
made for her. Though, I am sure, I as her brother should 
not object to her receiving gifts from whom she choose — 
even from him, if he and she so willed it.” 


TEE MONTANAS. 


65 


Did he really think to teach his poor heart to look upon 
her as a sister — nothing more ? Then why his angry ques- 
tioning words to me who was less to him even than this ; 
how had I merited them ? At the remembrance of all, my 
wrath flashed up again, and I answered excitedly : 

“ Granting the truth of all you say, Mr. Ingram, is that 
any reason you should speak as you have done to me ? I 
have accepted your mother’s charity — it does not neces- 
sarily follow that I should degrade myself by receiving 
yours, or that you should insult me by oflfering it.” 

Alas ! I did not then know — for he had generously con- 
cealed from me, from all of us, the painful fact that to him 
and to him alone were we indebted, one and all, for every- 
thing ; even the very bread we ate. 

He answered very sorrowfully — I wonder now how he 
could have been so patient with me — with a forced resig- 
nation to his fate : 

“ I perceive you strangely misconstrue my motive, Aljean ; 
I meant no insult to you ; God knows I speak truly. I 
requested you not to call me brother, because it pains me 
to hear you call me so ; why you do not comprehend, I 
see ; so let it pass ; some day you will learn to know me 
better ; then you will readily forgive my hasty words.” 

“ I have already forgiven you, Clyde,” I answered, tremu- 
lously. Somehow that little sentence of concession had 
melted the wall of anger suddenly arisen between us. I 
too had been hasty ; why did not I ask pardon of him as 
well? — because I was sure he would gi’ant it whether I 
asked it or not ; for how good and kind and forgiving he 
had been to me always ! 

Returning to the hotel, we found Stanley and Warren, 
who had preceded and were awaiting us. She sat beside 
him on a divan; her bonnet was of white cactus; there 


66 


TEE MONTANAS. 


were clusters of blue violets and daisies in tbe face-trim- 
ming ; these were so incorporated with waves and ripples 
of sunny hair, it would have been difficult to discern the 
exact boundary between them. On one point at least the 
beholder could be specific, fearless of being inaccurate : 
this was regarding the very, beautiful roses encircled by the 
fairy garland which had that day been invoked by Warren 
Hayne. They were Christian roses, and manifested no 
spirit of interference or encroachment upon their surround- 
ings, even while they bloomed thus brilliantly, mute sym- 
bols of his triumph. I had seen it from the first all along, 
though I think Clyde had never realized it until that inter- 
view. To avoid meeting his eyes, I took my seat beside 
her, took her tiny, trembling hands in mine, and sought to 
turn her beaming face away from his searching gaze. 

Very soon Ray came back, and the three gentlemen 
joined us at dinner, at the conclusion of which meal, at 
the suggestion of our brother — Clyde was not our brother 
any more — we repaired to the parlor ; the gentlemen, 
excepting Warren, who never smoked, decided to forego 
their cherished cigars in lieu of the “ family chat ” which 
they proposed. Warren was in full force that evening ; it 
was the next thing to impossible to avoid growing genial in 
his presence ; ere the conclusion of the second glass of 
champagne he became exceedingly voluble, saying some 
very witty things with true Southern dash, and many 
friendly winning ones with such heartiness it was, as I 
before hinted, akin to impossible to resist their influence : 
even Clyde apparently became pacified and companionable. 

During the course of the evening the conversation 
assumed a political form; that quicksand Stanley and 
I, as cicerones, had hitherto sought to avoid ; our endea- 
vor in this instance had been worse than useless. 


THE MONTANAS. 


67 


I really feared for Ray, wlio blurted out bis opinions 
without stint or reservation. He expressed a conviction 
that the “ Republican candidate for the Presidency would be 
elected by a sectional element, not by the voice of a united 
people ; in almost any event he fancied the Republic would 
be dismembered, and dissolution be the final result. This 
he had long apprehended, an event which never seemed so 
likely to ensue as now. The institution of slavery had 
ftver been a pretext to agitators, an eyesore to both North 
and South. It is a question of vast import to the South 
in estimating the value and interest of the Gulf States, 
where white labor is unavailable ; though it should be a con- 
sideration of little moment to those North, who are the 
first to cry out, ‘ Down with it ! let slavery be for ever ex- 
tinguished ! ’ ” 

“ You do not, you cannot, even though you maintain 
slavery to be right, and justifiable in the sight of God and 
man, claim the premises that it is advantageous to any com- 
munity, in whatever section their lot may be cash” remarked 
Warren earnestly. “I hold it to be a festering evil, a 
chasm bridged over by custom, sustained by the pillars, 
now rotten and crumbling, upon which it was reared — an 
institution fit only for the darker ages ; a structure whose 
foundation-stone came from heathendom. The world has 
made gigantic evolutions, from generation to generation, 
through vast areas of progress, with this Gorgon of the feudal 
period clinging to the power-wheels of civilization. The 
scales have dropped one by one from the brightening eyes 
of nations, each of whom has been born again into a glo- 
rious realm of freedom ! America stands alone. Even the 
universal revolution has long since crossed the ocean ; the 
North rose up in its strength, as one man ; humanity, with 
probe and knife removed the moral cancer from her vitals — 


68 


THE MONTANAS. 


shook from the strong limbs of the people, in at least one 
portion of the Eepuhlic, the lethargy that had bound them 
in a state of inactivity. By her magnanimous example the 
bondman was made free. 

‘‘But your country, that vaunted, boasted land of the 
sunny South ! the canker is yet in her glorious heart, the 
poison of this system in her veins, retarding every attempt 
at progression, a malaria binding her to the rack of feudal 
deformity — a lamentable condition of mental and physical 
inanity. 

“ Russia stands stronger to-day than when the structure 
of her national pomp and pride was reared upon Jhe pil- 
lars of serfdom ; so would it be with you, if from your 
system of government this evil was purged out. It is pro- 
lific of convulsions ! for the giants in intellect among you, 
and these are comparatively few, there are thousands who 
are helplessly and hopelessly dwarfed, cringing in vales of 
wretchedness, ignorance, and poverty. It is a diplomatic 
and adroit process of sifting the rights of the small from 
the wrongs of the great ! or rather rights of the few from 
the wrongs of a multitude ! This is your boasted system of 
human slavery. Tlie iron heel of its pernicious usages 
grinds the white laborer down to a condition infinitely 
worse than that of the most abject servitude.” 

“You are right there,” Clyde answered blandly; “the 
blacks enjoy amenities and privileges from which the 
poorer class of whites are debarred. To those who chance 
to be personally acquainted with these facts, your argument 
in favor of improving the condition of the negroes sounds 
strangely inconsistent. In nine cases out of ten they are 
satisfied with their condition, and would not exchange their 
present state for all the immunities of a freedom the signi- 
ficance of which they have not the power to comprehend. 


THE MONTANAS. 


69 


I understand the subject well, and realize how much supe- 
ttor in circumstance and destiny are those held in lineal 
Hrvdtude to the poorer class of whites. In nine cases out 
of ten, as I before remarked, you would not better the con- 
idition of the slave.” 

“ That may he so ; I am not pleading the cause of the 
iuegro at the tribunal of these fair arbitresses ; it is only 
the cause of humanity. By your own admission, the con- 
■dition of nine-tenths of your net population is infinitely 
Vorse than that of the lineal bondsmen. Oh, were this 
crushing, binding burden but taken from the shoulders of 
these poor men, that they might come up gradually from 
the mazes of their ignorance — come to feel that they are 
.in truth men among men, and learn to comprehend in its 
fullest significance all the dignity and power implied in the 
term, to stand as freemen, shoulder to shoulder, heart to 
heart ; then there would be a new order of things. Ave- 
nues would open as if by magic ; through those shining 
'portals vistas of a higher destiny would become visible; 
feet now wandering in poverty, faltering in obscurity, 
j would soon learn to walk firmly and hopefully the sunnier 
life-track. 

There is a work, a great work for the present age to 
perform ; the pathway to it is beaten and blood-stained : 
toiling up from the stand-point of black-pinioned doubt 
millions of freemen will come scattering life and treasure, 
the nation’s bone and sinew, by the way, to the goal of 
this end. 

‘‘ I am convinced, as well as him who sees the end from 
the beginning, that the liberation of the slave, the white 
man’s advancement towards the civilization in which pos- 
terity will rejoice and thank us for, united under the 
flaming head of freedom, will be triumphant.” 


70 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ Then it will be a triumph dearly won,” answered 
Clyde, with flashing eyes. “Even the cause which you 
vaunt as a pretext must elude you ; for the South, rich 
and poor, great and small, bond and free, will stand up as 
one man to defeat your purpose ; high hearts will bleed 
and break, and their death-throes will shake your govern- 
ment to its very centre and convulse the material universe 
ere this shall come to pass.” 

I have often since recalled this prophecy of Clyde’s, 
though none of us seemed to feel or scarcely to heed it 
then, and by some adroit strategy on our part the con- 
versation was changed. They talked now of the beautiful 
countries through which they all had passed ; where War- 
ren Hayne, more especially, had grown rich in those men- 
tal treasures which made his society a resource so prized 
by all — invaluable to a young enthusiast like Stanley. On 
that occasion I remember he talked magniflcently ; there 
was such power in his eloquence, coupled with the lofty 
charm of his manner, such grandeur in the personality 
thus asserted. I too was captivated, and appreciated my 
cousin more than ever before; he possessed a strange 
capacity to magnetize his auditors. Now, while he spoke 
of Germany, we listened to the chime of Bohemian bells 
and heard the sounds of the rushing Khine : he glided on 
to other themes, themes world-wide and comprehensive ; 
we beheld spheres rhetorical and metaphorical spheres 
evolving through the mystic spaces of his thought, bathed 
in sunlit mists, embalmed in the fragrance of their flowers ; 
we seemed to hear two sweet strains of soul music while 
he thus grandly swept young heart-strings that were 
twining into the recesses of his own, with what power and 
effect only God knew. 

I scarce knew whether I most joyed or sorrowed for the 


THE MONTANAS. 


V 

j turn affairs had taken ; I could not but listen sometimes 
I to the deep voice of hope in my own being whispering, 
it is best; but when I looked on Stanley’s face, which 
i darted occasional glances of unrest into my own, owing to 
I some undefined cause, or upon Clyde, who was at times so 
I moody and watchful, I felt it would perhaps have been 
better for all if we could have had the old time back with- 
out the added sunshine of this new presence. 

Cousin Warren made one of our party to Nahant; to 
my surprise we there encountered the Soules and the Aus- 
tins from New Orleans. Now I had just cause for disliking 
Retta Austin ; she had been a pupil at the same academy 
in which Stanley and myself, as Ray jestingly remarked, 
had “ climbed the hill of science there I had held her 
aloof, after the fashion of school-girls, though now, with 
characteristic littleness, she deemed it politic to avail her- 
self of the acquaintance in consideration of the gentlemen 
attached to our party, though it was easy to see and feel 
she had not quite forgotten or forgiven the old score. 
From her first introduction to Warren she persisted in 
claiming a portion of his time, even at the expense of her 
delicacy and his manifest preference for Stanley. 

The days passed very charmingly in this ocean-girded 
retreat ; each was full to the brim of that busily-idle pre- 
carious life of pleasure, which is ever succeeded by a sense 
of loss or a consciousness of wanting something to occupy the 
void they leave behind them. Such seasons of exaltation 
are ever followed by periods of corresponding depression. 

Meanwhile, mists were fleecing and thickening on the far- 
rolling sea ; sunshine mellowing on the paths in which we 
often walked or drove ; summer song-birds drew feathery 
mantles closer about shivering little forms, wet with ocean 
spray, and trooping, chattered of their southward voyage. 


72 


THE MONTANAS. 


We, too, began to think of returning to Ridgely, often 
wondering, as many a summer party has done before, if we 
should ever meet again. Aye ! perhaps. Ere we came, 
the life journey ended to a darker ocean-side, if not beyond 
seas. 

Warren’s friend, Milverton, too, had joined us at Nahant. 
We found him a valuable acquisition to our party ; so genial, 
so quick in his perception and comprehension of things ; 
so witty and voluble, we could scarcely realize that we had 
actually existed previous to his arrival. He saw there was 
something amiss, and set himself at work to discover and 
amend it. I knew not how it all came about, but Clyde 
was feeling better, I found, as the days went by. Pride 
had served him in good ^tead ; he was strong, and in my 
secret heart I honored him for his triumph and dignified 
submission to what was apparently inevitable. I was very 
kind to Clyde, more so than I had been for months. Once 
I caught his eyes fixed upon me with a queer expression of 
inquiry — ^timid, yet full of meaning — which I dared not in- 
terpret according to the dictates of my own feelings. Stan- 
ley’s deportment towards him was that of a sister ; he 
rarely caressed, never repelled her. Raymond was the 
brightest spirit in our midst ; he permitted nothing to mar 
the harmony of our days together there, now rapidly draw- 
ing to a close. 

One early evening I sat with Clyde beside a low window, 
listening to the crashing waves beneath. Afar out upon 
the trackless deep a solitary ship was ploughing her fearless 
pathway into the unknown. Clyde spoke no word, only 
pointed to the isolated sail — in the swift breeze fluttering 
like a thing of life. 

“Clyde,” said I, after a long pause, “will you tell me 
why you will not let me call you brother ? ” 


TEE MONTANAS. 


73 


“ Aljean, I have asked myself that question many times ; 
you answered it once for all timeP 

“ AMien — where ? ” I asked, in my eagerness. 

“ In the parlor at the Tremont one evening when we 
were alone together.” 

AMiat, because I had avowed ray unrequited love, was 
that sufficient reason why he should refuse me his bro- 
therly affection ? 1 was growing restive and uncomforta- 

ble. I was very glad when Raymond joined us and com- 
menced talking to Clyde on some business matter be- 
tween them, and Warren, sauntering that way, claimed 
me for a promenade ; he held my hand, as he always did 
when we walked together. I imagine Cousin Warren was 
well aware of the fascination which his presence exerted ; I 
even, I who often warred with him, could not wholly resist it ; 
however vindictive and resentful in his absence, I was inva- 
riably amicable when he was by my side. This influence 
was extended to all who came within the circle of it. How 
he contrived, under the semblance of his kingly indiffer- 
ence, to comprehend my struggle between liking and dis- 
approbation — to assimilate these contesting elements and 
cause me to forget everything save that his full dark eyes 
were upon me in cousinly affection and confidence — is more 
than I shall ever be able to account for. Upon the occa- 
sion above referred to, he said earnestly : 

“ One more week of bliss, such as the gods might envy, 
and then — oh 1 how desolate I shall be when you are 
gone!” Accustomed as was Warren to this phraseology, 
wrapping rhetorical tissues about empty words, oftentimes 
with no other object than to conceal an indifference he 
really felt, T believed him to be serious now ; though for 
once fact was stronger than fancy ; though I replied in a 
jesting manner : “Hal ha ! my anchorite has decided to 
4 


74 


THE MONTANAS. 


play the sentimentalist ! Well, the character becomes you, 
trifler that you are. Oh ! cousin, you are so wretchedly fickle 
there is no trusting what you say. You will go to Cape May 
or Atlantic City and forget us all in a fortnight ; in antici- 
pation of this melancholy oblivion I forewarn you, Stanley, 
and I may follow your illustrious example in that regard.” 

“ Jennie, you are unjust to me as usual. Even you, wilful 
witch that you are, I could not forget if I were to try 
> Stanley — ” lowering his voice at the mention of her name, 
until its tones were rich, full, almost reverent — “to forget 
her would be to forget the world of women, the universe of 
glorious nature, its birds, fiowers, and sunshine; its light 
and music; the heaven and hope beyond; in short, a total 
oblivion of all things, for she is all of these ; she is life itself 
to me — the only perfect woman I have ever known. You 
may look surprised and incredulous, as I see you have a 
mind to do, but if I had lived among such women I should 
never have been the heartless cynic, the male flirt, the world 
esteems me to day.” 

“ If Stanley has faith in your words, I should be insane to 
doubt their truth.” I looked into his face; he seemed 
moody and reflective, sad withal ; then spoke more in re- 
sponse to his own thought than in answer to my adroitly 
worded suggestion : 

“ She does not know it yet ; shall never know, unless her 
own heart first teaches her the beautiful truth.” 

Quick as lightning a conviction crashed through my heart- 
strings. I looked at Warren ; there was a strange set firmness 
about his mouth so unlike the expression upon Stanley’s pure 
face, with its roses and frame-work of falling curls, as she 
passed us in the promenade, all radiant in the twilight, leaning 
on the arm of Milverton. Would Warren dare to trifle with 
her ? A bitter rejoinder sprang to my lips, but the mist 


THE MONTANAS, 


75 


cleared away from before my eyes as I felt tlie magnetic 
pressure of his hand, and felt his own reading my thoughts, 
wliile the serenity that was habitual to both resumed its 
empire again. 

“ No, Warren, you will not miss our party ; even here 
there are some pleasant people, two or three whom you 
may find suflSciently charming to beguile the hours of 
our lamented absence. I am sure you will not lack for 
entertainment ; then there cannot exist the faintest pretext 
for ennui within the circle of your favorite, Rctta Austin. 
She has spirit enough to animate a whole party ; she is 
highly combustible, however, and may at least endanger 
your broadcloth. No one can tell to what length she might 
go in her wild pranks, if Jane was not constantly checking 
her. I am sure you will not be permitted to grow tame in 
such company.” 

“ Miss Austin is not a favorite of yours,” remarked Cou 
sin Warren loftily, as though he held such trifiing variances 
far beneath his gentlemanly consideration. I appreciated 
his exclusiveness, and in this instance, so I answered 
carelessly : “ Oh, no ! if I cared anything at all about her I 

should do violence to my sense of justice if I did not dis- 
like her very much. I understand her thoroughly ; could 
not avoid conning the distasteful lesson during my daily 
contact w’ith her in our school days. Her assumption of 
artlessness, which she vainly seeks to vaunt under cover of 
versatility, is but another cloak for her wilful and intricate 
designs. During our residence at the Academy, I have seen 
these dangerous qualities brought to bear upon many a 
guilelesss school-girl who had chanced to incur Retta’s 
haughty displeasure by excelling her in some pursuit, render- 
ing the probability of her missing the first premium almost 
ceitain. In such cases she would not scruple to forge and 


V6 


THE MONTANAS. 


fabricate, until she bad amassed evidence sufficient to cause 
the young lady’s dismissal. Being a favorite with the pre- 
ceptress, she usually succeeded in any undertaking upon 
which she had set her head and heart. Now you will under- 
stand why I say it is dangerous to deal with her, and why I 
repeat the assertion. If I had any feeling other than perfect 
indifference for her, it would be one of distrust and dislike.” 

“You are evidently not a favorite with her ? ” he answered, 
seeming to grow more interested in my naiTative, smiling 
meantime at my warmth, “ and she is at least frank enough 
in this instance to make no effort to conceal the fact.” 

“ It is a palpable case. I unmasked her once, and she, 
measuring my spirit by her own very narrow one, vaunts 
her revenge as an offset to the contempt she imagines I feel 
for her, which I am astonished that I do not feel, though I 
do not hesitate to express the opinion hitherto asserted, that 
Ketta Austin is a dangerous woman — even as a friend — 
treacherous as lago ! ” 

“Precisely,” said Cousin Warren; “ and this is the woman 
into whose false fair clutches you would have me surrender 
myself in the event of your absence.” 

“ I retract, Warren,” I answered, with mock symptoms 
of relenting ; “ it may be dull for you here, but you have 
many resources independent of her or any other woman. 
I have accused you of being fickle in some respects ; but 
in this instance the impression will last beyond the hour. 
I do not think it will fade before the snow has fallen to 
chill the life from your beautiful summer-fiowers.” 

We scarce lifted our eyes in recognition as a beautiful 
woman swept by us with a lofty glance, and just the pre- 
text of a nod in my direction, though I saw her own bent 
in pride and passion on Cousin Warren; it was Ketta 
Austin ; from that hour I knew her secret well. 


THE MONTANAS. 


11 

At this juncture Stanley joined us ; Warren offered her 
his arm. I laughingly remarked that I should leave them, 
through fear of relapsing into a terrible third, 

“ Not at all,” answered Warren rapidly. “ I have nothing 
to say to Miss Montana which I should not say fearlessly if 
all the world stood listening.” 

True ! I had seen it in Stanley’s face in those days at 
Boston ; the pleasant drives to Haverhill, Melrose, and during 
long quiet lingerings upon the velvet turf of the beautiful 
common, with that bright young face by his side, had 
taught her to love him, and in return he had no words for 
her which all the world might not hear. We three were 
silent for a long time ; Warren was the first to speak. 

“ Wliither will you bend your course from here ? though 
really I shall know whether you take the trouble to answer 
me or not. Satellites invariably gravitate towards the ono 
great solar centre. It will be thus with all Miss Montana’s 
friends and admirers ; there too in that bright orbit I shall 
run my destined circle, whether to bliss or misery who 
shall say. Emerson, I think it was, whose definition of fate 
was ‘ free will.’ I will demonstrate the truth or falsity of 
his assertion.” Stanley’s cheeks hung out white signals of 
pain ! For her sake I answered for us both. 

‘‘ We are not to delegate to ourselves the slightest com- 
pliment in the appropriation of your well-meant gallantry, 
cousin, since in obeying this recognised law of ‘gravitation’ 
which forces you into our orbit, insomuch as you are so 
unwilling a victim to the martyrdom imposed by the science 
which governs the centripetal and centrifugal forces of our 
being ; leaving you no alteniative but submission.” Next 
instant I repented having said so much. Warren was too 
wretched to make any response to my raillery; I sincerely 
pitied him without knowing why it was he should sufter thus. 


IS 


THE MONTANAS, 


On the morning following we drove upon the beach. 
Kaymond had gone up to the city on business; Warren 
took his place in the carriage — so there was only we four. 
Clyde escorted me ; he and Warren had, it seemed, enjoyed 
a much better understanding of late ; when Stanley and I left 
them to dress for the drive, they locked arms, much to our 
surprise, and walked to and fro together in the morning sun- 
shine. There were many things that to me were utterly 
incomprehensible, only because all this while I had regarded 
Clyde’s passion for Stanley in the light of a stubborn fact, 
had grown to accept it as a matter of course, attributing 
to him feelings foreign to his nature or intention ; though 
by look or word he had never, save in my estimation, 
revealed more than a brother’s affection for her. What an 
inexorable tyrant love is ! often rushing us blindly into 
some conclusion which brings upon its swift wings only 
misery. He and Warren had never been other than kind 
to each other, except in my thought; barring that first 
bitter suspicion of Clyde’s that Warren might prove traitor 
to Stanley’s pure young love. 

Adown the beach we passed — we four together in the 
bright morning sunshine. What cool and refreshing 
breezes from the sea 1 what exhilaration in the very air we 
breathed ! Our steeds struck fiery sparks from the pebbly 
road while bearing us along with a motion so rapid it left 
us no time for thought. Stanley and Warren were so 
happy they asked of the Infinite nothing beyond this day 
and its glory ; no hope, no promise for the morrow. Be- 
tween Clyde and myself there was only silence 1 

“ There is a silence which hath been no sound, 

There is a silence which no sound may be.’’ 

I could find no word — ^he sought none ; we two sat thus 


THE MONTANAS. 


79 


>vith eyes wandering out upon the sleeping deeps — very 
stilly they were in the rooming light, which caressed white- 
winged fleets in the far harbor — and hovered about the 
city w ith its surging tides of human life wdth a radiance 
like the widespread circling pinions of Deity. 

We returned by way of a circuitous route, which brought 
us to another entrance of the hotel ; as we were being 
handed from the carriage by Milverton, who anticipated 
our attendants in the performance of that duty, Stanley’s 
dress w as caught and held by a tack from a trunk which 
stood upon the steps, evidently but just dislodged from a 
travelling cab wdiich yet stood in waiting. 

“ There is something in your w^ay,” remarked our obse- 
quious gallant, waggishly glancing from Stanley to Warren, 
who had lent his efiicient sendee to disengage the fabric. 
He gave a start of surprise as the name on the trunk — that 
of a rich heiress in Philadelphia, at the shrine of whose 
charms he had been a devotee — caught his eye. lie lifted 
his face to Milverton wdth a queer expression neither of us 
understood. 

“ Come, Warren, old fellow, you are to do penance hence- 
forth. I will take my oath it is not me she is after,” was 
Milverton’s comforting remark to his friend, who escorted 
Stanley to the parlor, where he left her in a maze of fitful 
abstraction, bowing merely, without requesting, as he always 
did on leaving us, that he might soon be permitted to see 
us again. 

We spent most of the day in our own apartment. How 
sweetly Stanley looked, with her curls gathered in a net, 
through wdiose silken meshes rebellious rings of gold would 
break from masses of the chestnut, seeming to mock in their 
sunny radiance the look of patient waiting on her lovely 
face. Milverton and Clyde attended us at dinner, Itay 


80 


THE MONTANAS. 


being still absent; neither was Warren present. When we 
came into the ball-room in the evening, he was there, the 
centre of a group, an imperious blonde hanging on his arm. 
Her form was perfect, though her features were almost ex- 
pressionless ; her blue eyes sleepy without being languid ; 
her manner haughty, almost to sternness. They were con- 
versing with a pompous grey-haired gentleman with very 
heavy watch-seal and gold-headed cane, who I readily 
suspected was her father, judging from their resemblance to 
each other. 

It was evident she had heard of us, for she turned to take 
a survey of our party as we entered ; Milverton, perhaps, 
had told her something, for her gaze, though well bred, 
seemed to grow pitiless and hard as it rested on Stanley. 
I read the secret of those haughty blue eyes as I had done 
that of another pair of eyes on the previous evening. The 
deduction was palpable. Warren Hayne was engaged to 
this woman I She had doubtless been informed, as I before 
hinted, of his apparent devotion to the Southern belle, and 
had come down to Nahant for the purpose of warning her 
captive to his chains again. This then was why his love 
for my friend had never been spoken ; why he would wait 
until Stanley’s heart had taught her the truth. The dead 
weight on my heart seemed crushing it into a far more 
fearful silence than that which hitherto had bound it. 

Retta Austin went into a series of transports at the 
present aspect of affairs; looked all kinds of triumph — a 
process to which Stanley appeared entirely oblivious and 
impervious — as she swept down the centre of the room, 
leaning on the arm of her handsome brother, peerless, defy- 
ing competition ; a shower of white tulle falling in snowy 
waves about her person, swaying with each graceful undu- 
lation of her lithe form — the very impersonation of “ Holmes’s 


THE MONTANAS. 


81 


golden blonde.” I had never been so proud of her as at that 
moment. “ The arrowy light ” seemed to follow and linger 
with her ; a very spirit of loveliness “ brightening the scene.” 

If my darling was heart-sick, Warren Ilayne should not know 
it. How in my soul I honored that brave little woman for 
the manner in which she kept this resolve ! I saw how W^ar- 
ren’s eyes followed her, the same deep mystery and subdued 
lustre in their depths which I had seen there in the morning. 

Many of Stanley’s admirers at Nahant, who had given 
way to him as to one having superior claims — ^partly from re- 
spect to Mr. Hayne, again because they cared not to come into 
open competition with that gentleman, in a race for favor in- 
volving certain defeat to themselves — now seeing his immola- 
tion, gathered about her in*' mute profession of the homage 
they felt. She appeared so gay, so brilliantly animated, even 
I was puzzled to decide if the assumption was -real. It was 
strange to see how composed and self-sustained she was; 
while he was correspondingly moody, sullen, and wretched. 
The chain he had worn so lightly hitherto, now galled him 
bitterly. I had never known this polished man of the 
world so entirely at a loss as upon that occasion. 

Milverton, considerate fellow that he was, charitably / 
claimed Warren’s fiancee for a polka; it was amusing to 
behold with what alacrity he resigned her to his friend and 
came at once to us. When within the enchanted circle of 
Stanley’s pure presence “ Richard was himself again.” She 
smiled calmly, never once by look or act admitting that 
she felt his omission of the morning ; for he had been so 
constant previously in his devotion to our party it could 
be regarded in no other light. He was piqued at her appa- 
rent indifierence, and grew positively angry when some 
favored friend of Raymond’s led her forward to the dance. 
Ah ! how vain his wrath then ! I smiled when my eyes 

4 * 


82 


THE MONTANAS. 


sought those of our tragedy king, for I really enjoyed his 
discomfiture. 

“I imagine you have enjoyed a charming tUe-a~tHe 
with your new-found friend,” I remarked, as he came 
nearer. With cool sarcasm he answered : 

“ To those who do not know better I might admit that 
I had ; but to yow, who are informed that the contrary is 
true, I do not hesitate to repeat I have notr Retta Aus- 
tin watched him from a distant sofa, never once taking her 
black eyes, which shone like basilisks, from his face. 

Cousin Warren,” I said again, more gently now, for I 
pitied him, though with terrible meaning in my words, for 
I also pitied Stanley, “you have two women’s hearts 
under your heel ! Which will you decide to crush, one or 
both ? ” He sprang hastily at the conclusion ; speaking so 
vehemently, I was really alarmed to see the cold, proud 
man thus moved. 

“Tell me frankly, Jenny — much depends upon my 
knowledge of these facts — do you think Miss Montana 
cares in the least for me, or does she love Ingram? 
If I could bring myself to feel they really loved each 
other, my course would then be clear; I should not 
for an instant hesitate. In the other instance to which 
there is reference in your meaning, I can assure you there 
would be no heart broken^ simply because there is none to 
break. On the contrary, if I should crush Stanley’s, with 
it I should set an iron heel upon my own. I have not 
spoken a tithe of what is in my heart for her, because in 
many regards it seemed not quite honorable so to . do : 
though to none other am I bound by a positive promise. 
Miss Strawbridge, in our New York circle, has been so 
accustomed to receive my attention she has come to look 
upon it as a matter of course to regard the monopoly as 


THE MONTANAS. 


83 


her right rather than her privilege. Tell me, Jennie, be- 
fore Miss Montana joins us again ; I must know, and shall 
know sooner or later.” 

“ Question your own heart, Warren, if hers has not 
long since taught her this lesson ? follow whither this 
knowledge may lead you.” 

He gave his arm to Stanley as she came up flushed with 
the exercise of dancing ; she leant upon it, paling slightly 
beneath his burning gjize. The atmosphere of the room 
furnished suflScient pretext for his leading her to the veran- 
da that they might get a cool breath from the sea. When 
they passed the low window near to which I sat, I saw 
that he had taken both her hands in his, and heard him 
ask distinctly, in tones hoarse with suspense and suf- 
fering : 

“ Shall not this wretched mockery cease ? ” 

I heard not the answer she gave, for just then I went to 
dance with Clyde. Once, as we again neared the window, I 
saw them walking to and fro. I could not forbear a trium- 
phant leer in the direction of Miss Austin in retaliation for 
the glance she had sent after Stanley early in the evening. 

The quadrille ended ; we two, Clyde and myself, came 
out to join them where they stood looking out upon the 
broad expanse of water, over which the solitary ship with 
single sail had passed to the flirther tides. How deep and 
dark appeared that sea, outspread under the stars of hea- 
ven ! A cold, white moon uprose in the sky. What 
should we prophesy ? There was no speck or blemish in all 
its bright expanse. The ship was out of sight, swift glid- 
ing towards a port of the unknown. Again the bright 
river, as it ran through my morning dream, crossed my 
memory. A beam from the ghastly-faced moon, as she 
skulked within the gathering mists, cast of Stanley and 


84 


THE MONTANAS. 


Warren a joint image on tlie sanded floor, “ while pulse to 
pulse and heart to heart was beating ” — one little shadow 
united, nothing more ! 

Was this the all of love immortal as Deity? We shall 
see. 

Overhead God’s stars were shining ! Beneath their ra- 
diance we trod the pathway of invincible destiny. 

0 

CHAPTER VI. 

“ There is no future pang 
Can deal the justice on the self-condemned, 

He deals on his soul.” 

Byron’s Manfeed. 

“ Stan, you little princess ! ” exclaimed Raymond, kissing 
her with great vehemence, when the engagement vras made 
known to him ; “ Hayne is the best match in all New York ! 
Half the women there are dying for him ; he is a kind of 
Adonis.” 

“ How sublimely selfish, Ray,” I ejaculated, by way of 
response ; “ you expect to settle in this locality. I have 
not forgotten your penchant for Mary Kingswell.” 

“ Neither have I,” he answered, smiling. “ By the way, 
Jennie, how does it happen you did not succeed in captivat- 
ing some one of the legion beaux at Nahant ? You might 
well have ‘ stooped to conquer ’ another so elegant a fellow 
as Warren.” 

I dared not look up — I was .conscious that Clyde’s eyes * 
were upon me ; when once for an instant I met his glance, 
it was so full of agonized tender regret (for Stanley’s loss I 
thought), tempered with an appeal that was like gall to 
my spirit, remembered in after years. 


TUE MONTANAS. 


85 


Leaving Milverton and Ilayne at the sea-side, we came 
back to Ridgely in the grey gloaming of an early autumn 
mom. We four; the atmosphere of a nameless change 
about us, other than the one we knew of, into which had 
been infused the subtle essence of a new presence. Sur- 
rounded by love’s delightful atmosphere, Stanley glided 
back into the quiet life so long forsaken. Somehow we all 
fell into the home ways at Ridgely, naturally as though we 
had never left them otF ; and the calm, broad, peaceful cur- 
rent had not been turned aside, and we tried our strength 
upon a deeper ocean of thought, feeling, and suffering. 
There were our mornings breaking in glorious light and 
beauty over the New Hampshire hills ; and our evenings, 
when the father joined us in our walks upon the terrace or 
lounged with Ray and Clyde upon the velvet turf, whilst 
we wove acacia buds into wreaths and tied frail mignonette 
blossoms into garlands for their brows, thinking how the 
dead wife in Ike Mnrvel’s “ Reveries ” had Iqved it ; and 
what a sad thing it would be to exchange the beautiful 
world, with its flowers and sunshine, for the decay and 
darkness of that terrible realm of the unknown. There 
were no unquiet thoughts in this dreamy spot ; we had left 
the tumult amid the gaieties of Nahant — in the heat and 
dust of the great metropolis. The glow came back even 
to Clyde’s classic face, and a strange prophetic rest to my 
own tired heart 

How gradually, yet naturally, Ray and Mary came to 
withdraw^ themselves from our midst; and during long, 
golden afternoons, to wander off in shady by-paths to con- 
verse in gentler, deeper tones — in short, to love each other 
more than all the world beside. I have never known a 
couple so entirely assimilated in disposition, taste, and feel- 
ing. Jjove to them was a calm, placid stream, upon which 


86 


THE MONTANAS. 


to laimcli their bark of life, whose current was a deeper 
peace. To us was left the regal flow, over whose crystal 
deeps we dashed onward mid rocks, wrecks to the eternal 
sea outspread beyond. Is there a fate linking the least of 
these sentiments with the Infinite ? and must the process 
needs be one of simple peace or deep, deep suffering, ac- 
cording as our natures require the chastening ? Through the 
medium of these tender heart-chords does the Father seek 
to draw unto Himself again His world-wan dering children. 

I remember one evening, Stanley’s head, with its wealth 
of golden brightness, was resting on my shoulder while the 
gentlemen talked. Mr. Kingswell conversed with them fre- 
quently and earnestly ; he never opened his mouth but 
pearls of wisdom dropped from it. How sagely he dealt 
with life ! Each simple stricture contained a lesson worth 
enshrining. We were fully conscious that his words were 
pervaded by a deeper, more subtle philosophy than sages 
usually propagate or men of God at all times practise. On 
this occasion their subject was one — a man who was es- 
teemed among the great of this earth. Clyde remarked, 
cursorily : 

‘‘I truly sympathize with him; he has outlived his 
generation, or rather he has fallen behind the age in which 
he lived. Companions of his mid-life orgies are widely 
scattered ; of all who revelled with him, very few are left ; 
many who set out with him at the commencement of the 
journey have passed on. He walks the streets of his own 
city ; the curious peer at him from every window ; old, 
familiar faces one by one have gone further into the mists 
beyond; homes where he was wont to go at evening, an 
ever-welcome guest, bear strange inscriptions upon their 
door-plates. What must be his feeling to know the world 
that he has served through all his life has thus changed to 


THE MONTANAS. 


87 


him ? Tlie reflection must indeed be a melancholy one ; 
for he too is changed and grown unacquainted with its 
simplest usages. I can think of no one more deserving my 
pity, and that of all men.” 

“ 11 ow few of our great men,” remarked Mr. Kingswell in 
answer, “ learn, until some unpleasant necessity forces upon 
them the simple truth — the world is Satan’s taskmaster! 
Those who do most to deser\'e its favor are those who 
oftentimes incur its severest censure. Besides, this man 
was a faithful disciple of his tutor ; he has been one of the 
most noted libertines of his day. How many a simple- 
minded girl, chaste and pure before breathing the dreadful 
miasma surrounding him, has taken then the first step in 
that downward path within whose mazes he, the last of all 
his victims, has lost the way ; perhaps for all eternity. To 
such 1 accord my sympathy and regard as exceedingly 
unjust ; a tribunal which would exclude from all charity his 
\'ictims, while exalting and heaping its honors upon the 
man who has made these heartless triumphs, and consti- 
tuted them the stepping-stones to advancement within the 
area of his ignominious celebrity.” 

Raymond here observed between pufis of his Havana, omi- 
nously incoq)orating with white wreaths, blue ones of smoke : 

“ The vanity and self-love of some men are absolutely dis- 
gusting; judging from the manner in which they parade 
their debaucheries, one might imagine they considered every 
species of error in which they chose to indulge as being 
really exalted by their august participation. After having 
warred all their lives through with purity and uprightness, 
at last, upon the score of their very degradation, claiming 
amnesty from the God of truth and justice.” 

Mr, Kingswell then remarked : 

“ Ah 1 but they cannot do this ; it is not in the power of 


88 


THE MONTANAS. 


man to do. Even those whose souls commune with and in- 
terpret rightly the commands and exactions of Deity — those 
who are mighty in intellect — ^who can make stepping-stones 
of mountain peaks, and move within an area of the stars — 
cannot sin without coming down from those proud heights 
for which they have toiled, thus nearing the everlasting 
sun. The spirit just begun to rejoice in its freedom is 
dragged hack to the dusty highway of earth, where it 

grovelled first ere its fetters were rent in twain. K is 

one who has thus sinned in the face of Revelation and con- 
science, possessing the fine tastes of a mind born to a 
higher heritage. When the awakening comes, and these 
faculties assert themselves, he will be of all men the most 
miserable. He may wrap gaudy tissues about the form of 
sin ; but she will one day shake them ofi*, and appear before 
him in all her loathsome deformity; a coarse, repulsive 
courtezan, assuming a thousand disgusting and repulsive 
aspects with which his higher nature cannot longer assimi- 
late. The soul will not trail its glory-tipped pinions ’mid 
the dust of the senses ; heavenward it soars ; ofttimes then 

is the affiliation but very mockery. I think R has 

come to feel this already ! The soul has proclaimed her 
heritage of freedom ; the sun is going down upon the last 
slopes westward lying, yet is the mortal part still bound by 
a thousand jagged tissues to the rack of past and present 
transgressions ; the age runs its round of days without him. 
Hence, upon the earth, he who ever bent so ready a knee 
at the shrine of her pleasures is now a stranger and pilgrim. 
What account shall such a man render, not only of what 
has been done, which it were better to have left undone, 
but what might have been accomplished had he not per- 
mitted selfish indulgence to blind the true, far-seeing eyes 
of immortal destiny.” 


THE MONTANAS. 


89 


Here a shadow crossed the starlight, sleeping on the 
grass-plat at our feet ; and the figure of a woman, hearing 
in her arms a child, sank down as in supplication ; the 
light on her clearly cut features — so wan, suffering, and 
pjile — showed to me the face of Leah Eldridge, the friend 
of my childhood, now, alas, a mother, who bore still her 
maiden name ! I uttered a sharp, shrill cry, as I recognised 
her. Mr. Kingswell stooping, raised the poor creature, 
who had sunk from exhaustion on the stone steps, had 
fallen really with such force as to cause a serious contusion 
on one of her temples. Those kind arms lifted and carried 
her into the house, while Mrs. Kingswell took up the baby, 
a bright little fellow of perhaps a year old, with dark-flow- 
ing curls, very pretty I saw at a glance ; I also saw, when 
we came into the home light, not half a century of years 
could so thoroughly have changed my friend as that one 
year of sorrowing repentance had done. 

Some lives can only be brought to sin by being borne out 
of their usual channels ; when once the impelling force is 
removed that turned aside the pure, steady current, they 
surge back again to the upright course, and mirror the 
same beautiful soul-thoughts as before the beauteous spirit 
wings were trailed amid the dust and blight of the sunless 
way. I saw instantly how this was true with Leah. I hold 
with Mr. Kingswell that sin can never be exalted ; it is a 
bitter draught to some who feel that they would rather toil, 
work, stance, die, than drain its cup to the bitter dregs. 

This bAve resolution was written where I readily translat- 
ed it in the white look of anguished endeavor on Leah’s pite- 
ous face ; in the clothes she wore, the tatters that enwrapped 
her boy ; in her readiness to face all, that she might find one 
who would aid her in coming back, one who would not 
simply tell her she had taken the wrong turning, but who 


^0 


THE MONTANAS. 


would point out the way and means by which she might 
return to the forsaken path of right. Did Mr. Kingswell 
esteem himself too holy to do this for one so stricken and 
powerless as my poor fallen friend ? All these thoughts 
came to me as I bathed the wan temples from which the 
life-blood was freely flowing. 

“ I think some angel must have guided me here,” she 
said faintly, as if in a kind of dream. “ How I prayed 
God he would take me somewhere, anywhere, out from 
under those cruel stars which seem to pierce me like the eyes 
of doom. I used to love them once, long ago, but stars 
are an awful thing to the homeless — shining afar off, like 
the light of joys we dare not hope to know again. Though 
henceforth I will say no harmful word of the stars ; they 
brought me here ; and oh ! if you knew all : what I have 
sufiered in my prolonged and painful struggle- with the 
world for work, for life, for myself and child, I am sure you 
would not send me away. I will labor for you all my life 
through ; I will be your faithful slave even, unless you really 
force me out into that wide, hard world again. I should 
faint in the heat of its noonday suns, with my sinful burden. 
I could stand it no longer; I can only die, should this 
last resource fail me, this appeal to you, Mr. Kingswell, 
who was my mother’s friend.” She wept here. I pressed 
her hand gently, and wiped away the blinding tears from 
her eyes ; then she looked at me ; a gleam of recognition 
overspread her wan features, but it faded swiftly as it came, 
for it seemed the sense of her true condition. Her shame so 
utterly overpowered her she could only exclaim, brokenly — 
Aljean Montana, is it you? Oh! how wide the space 
between us has grown ! yet I remember you well, as 
though it were but yesterday we parted. I know not your 
way since, but mine has been through an endless winter. I 


THE MONTANAS. 


91 


have fallen, Jennie, very low, but do not censure your poor 
friend ; may you never know what it is to love as I have 
loved ; forgive me, you do not know all ; I am unworthy 
even to look upon your face, yet you hold my hand and 
bathe my brow — mine, poor, miserable, destitute as I 
am.” 

I heard a voice say — it was Raymond’s, fiery, impulsive 
Raymond’s — “ Come away, Jennie.” Then another voice — 
soft, tender like Jesus must once have spoken — “ Let her 
remain ; this woman was her friend ! She needs her now.” 
It was Mr. Kingswell’s. Then both young men came and 
stood beside me while I bathed her brow, saying in turn 
to the host : “ What shall you do with her ? ” 

What shall I — what can I do ? The way of the trans- 
gressor is hard ; we should not seek to make it harder. I 
feel I have no right to cast at her the first stone, if in truth 
I have a right to cast any stone at all.” Raymond look- 
ed abashed and humbled ; the more so when Mrs. Kings- 
well, in her soft, mild voice, came closer to Leah and laid 
her sleeping boy upon the couch beside her, saying gently : 
“ Do not weep so, child ; you shall not be sent away ; we 
will try to find you a home of refuge from the cold, wide 
world you dread so much, which has in truth dealt very 
hardly with you. Now go to sleep and rest.” 

That wife had her earthly reward in the look which her 
husband bestowed upon her as we were leaving the apart- 
ment. It was the seal of her sacrifice. 

On the following morning, at Mr. Kingswell’s request, I 
walked with him to see Captain Bob Eldridge ; to inform 
him of Leah’s state, and her presence at Ridgely. The 
poor girl shook her head when she knew we were going, 
and said it would be of no use ; she was sure her father 
could never forgive her, or receive her ; we surmised that 


92 


THE MONTANAS. 


slie was right in her conviction ; but duty seemed to poini 
in that direction, so we went. 1 

It was a mournful spectacle that met my eyes ; CaptaiJ 
Boh sitting still in the solitary house, as I had always IH 
membered him sitting there after his dead wife was borne! 
away — grimly, as though he had for companions the ghostsj 
of departed fancies. He scarce raised his brow when we‘^ 
entered ; and even in that faint effort there was no uplifting 
of the spirit to sustain the motion. In one brief glance I 
saw how his daughter’s shame — that more cruel scourge 
than sorrow for the dead — had ploughed deep furrows down 
his cheeks, and burned a deep, deep record on his brow. 
His hair, grey and thin as I remembered it, was entirely 
gone now, saving a small patch on either temple. I was 
more affected by this speechless lethargy than I could have 
been by any words he might have uttered. I went nearer 
to his side, smoothing his bare crown with my ungloved 
hand — questioned him regarding his knowledge of the past 
and of me. 

Who asks if I know them?” he answered querulously; 
“ I know no one ; not even my own child.” His voice, as 
he said those words of Leah, grew almost fierce; he 
stamped in rage upon the fioor. I saw that he was al- 
most mad ; how terrible, and yet I had heard of his having 
been in this state for months at a time. The worst form of 
madness is that which never loses consciousness long enough 
to become cured of grief. Mr. Kingswell, thinking this 
opportunity as favorable as any that might occur, stepped to 
the other side of the old man, speaking very kindly but 
firmly of his wish and purpose : 

“ It is of that child — your daughter, the knowledge of 
whom you have this hour denied — that I came here to 
talk to you. She has found her way to my house after 


THE MONTANAS. 


93 

having suffered raucli ; more than you and I, my friend, 
Ban ever know. Will you not pardon her ? She is still 
four own ; years of error on her part could never obliterate 
the tie that binds you to her; despite your course, a few 
hitter words could not break it — a few kind ones would 
■Jike it strong again. She is yours still — yours and God’s 
^who will not lose sight of her in her brave strivings to 
^nd the forsaken way. lie will light her feet, and I myself 
^hteously believe she means to walk in it, with His help, 
^o the end. You, too, will help her; she will repay you, I 
M sure, by taking this sting of grief and shame from out 
four poor old heart. I ask in behalf of Christ who died 
for sin ; in the name of her dead mother — in the name of 
the God who shall one day pass sentence upon us all — to 
^ke her into your home and heart again ; there let your 
ihild find rest and peace ! ” 

I could not fail to observe all the while ^Ir. Kingswell 
Ipoke how Captain Bob quivered like an aspen leaf ; I 
thought him a prey to some revengeful emotion ; perhaps 
lie remembered still that his dead wife had said to him one 
day : “ Robert, you are unjust to William.” How like the 
floquence of that long silent voice were the tones to which 
lie listened now, I fancied with some sign of relenting; 
^it the memory only sensed to gall him more. Almost 
fsy ether would have been a more successful ambassador 
just then ; yet the cause was a just one, and would triumph 
b the end. 

“ Are you here, William Kingswell ? ” exclaimed the old 
ttsn, surprisedly — every fibre starting into new vitality, as 
bs voice attained fresh vigor ; I have sworn you should 
mever enter my door. That you have forced me to break 
ay oath to the dead, is retribution dire. Leave me, I com- 
aand you, or I swear anew you shall be compelled to go ; 


94 


THE MONTANAS. 


there is yet sufficient strength in the right arm of Bob 
Eldridge to expel you summarily.” He would have fallen in 
his agitation, the poor, feeble old man, whom I knew strong 
and well, had I not forced him back into his chair gently, 
so gently, he was scarcely aware of the action. Mr. Kings- 
well faced him fearlessly. 

“You mistake me strangely, my friend, if you imagine 
for an instant I came here to taunt or annoy you. I have 
told what I wish to say concerning Leah ; you still persist 
in refusing to see and receive her ; she is under my pro- 
tection, and shall remain with me, since I must resign the 
hope of being able to place the poor girl under her father’s 
roof. Since that may not be, I must not refuse to do for 
her what I can myself, and with God’s aid I will.” Finding 
his office of peacemaker at an end, he readily accepted that 
of protector. 

The old man, thoroughly aroused by this unconscious 
assumption on the part of Mr. Kingswell, answered him in 
tones full of withering scorn : 

“You can well afford to assume the office of general dis- 
penser in cases involving the slightest omission of duty on 
the part of others, whose acts do not so much concern you ; 
but have you always played the philanthropist, and been 
thus prodigal to your own flesh and blood ? At whose 
mandate did one fair and beautiful and good go away from 
you, never to return ? — for she went long ago to that bourne 
from whence no pilgrim may return. Who was unforgiving 
then ? Who dosed the doors of home and heart in that 
long-past time ? William Kingswell, you have commenced 
too late.” 

I looked at Clyde’s uncle ; the old man’s manner was 
menacing, and his tones were full of sneering, when he had 
hurled the last shaft at his ancient enemy. The dart had 


THE MONTANAS, 


95 


not reached its aim ; Mr. Kingswell was impervious to 
keener shafts even than these ; he was so accustomed to 
probe his own heart and lay it bare to his Creator. Un- 
marred was all the glorious inner life save by this mistake 
of his youth. lie was calm as one who had triumphed 
over remorse, and the victory thus achieved was through 
long sutfering, of which there was no trace now, however, 
! only deep, painful anxiety in his tones, when he said tremu- 
lously : 

“ Tell me, my friend, if you know aught of her — that 
‘ poor, erring child ? I would give a world to know her fate, 
if I possessed one.” 

“ What would you know, William Kingswell ; more per- 
haps than I should care to tell you, if I could ? Let me 
alone ; I ask of you nothing, only that you will leave me.” 
He pointed impatiently to the door. Feeling that nothing 
could be gained by remaining, we left the old man to his 
solitudes, and came sorrowfully up the slopes to Ridgely. 

It was hard to meet the expectant look in Leah’s face, 
and have no answering word of comfort to give her. She 
saw how it was — as it had been ; tears trickled down the 
pale, thin cheeks, and fell upon the brown curls of her boy. 

“Your effort hjis not been altogether hopeless, Leah; 
you shall stay here as long as you like ; this shall be your 
home while you choose to make it so.” 

With one of those s^vift, sudden impulses which in the 
erring seem the upheaving of a better nature — hidden, but 
not destroyed — she threw herself at the feet of Mr. Kings- 
wcll ; too full of gratitude, she held her benefactor’s hands, 
while her tears fell down like rain. 

“ Leah,” he said, solemnly ; “ do not thank me ; there is 
one to whom your gratitude is more directly due.” She 
understood him, and clasped anew her hands in earnest prayer. 


96 


THE MONTANAS. 


And tlius it came to pass that Leah Eldridge came into 
the household at Eidgely, and took her place henceforth as 
one of its inmates. How strangely such things come about ! 
We have never since had cause to regret what we did then, 
though in many instances we could not have acted thus 
with impunity. There is no standard by which to estimate 
error in degree so true, so just, as that of manifest sincere 
repentance. Then, again, we know that God is the God of 
the wretched, and Christ their Saviour. Wlio shall hide 
his glorious beneficence from the eyes of the world-weary, 
whose sin by tears of bitter suffering has been washed out ? 

Once more into our season of content came the image 
of Warren Hayne, bringing brightness, yet dispensing 
shadows he had left in the void where his presence was 
not. 

But Clyde! I could not understand him, his conduct 
seemed so strange. I was sure he loved Stanley, though 
when her engagement had been first made known to him 
he evinced little feeling, only I imagined I saw the ago- 
nized regret burning deep in his soul-full eyes. How I 
worshipped this man 1 even though he seemed towering 
high above me, as if his soul was set among the stars, in 
whose light I walked, where his feet too trod on the hard 
earthway beside me. His spirit seemed to soar and pierce 
the dim ether, yet never for an instant ceased to be fet- 
tered with the material part of life, or lose its hold upon 
the actual. Often, often have I seen that gleam, spectral 
as starlight, yet never once did I suspect or know until 
long after what the glance portended. How blind is the 
keenest insight at war with fate 1 

It soon became known in the circle at Wayburn that 
Warren Hayne would marry the beautiful Southern girl, 
guest of the Kingswells* Stanley very naturally shrank 


THE MONTANA S. 


97 


from what seemed to her indelicate publicity of that which 
in her estimation should be held sacredly ; but Warren 
manifested a strange desire to parade his triumph. lie 
was one of those men who disvaluo any gift the world 
does not share and set high estimates upon. Many marry 
as though they anticipated having numberless spectators to 
every domestic scene from youth to age, so eager a desire 
they manifest to conciliate society in the choice of a partner 
for life, and court its due appreciation of their selection. 

Mr. Kingswcll Siiid little on the subject ; he was too 
thorough a gentleman to obtrude the expression of an 
opinion which had never been sought; I knew he had 
learned to love Stanley very dearly, and would have been 
pleased if she and his favorite, Clyde, had chosen each 
other. I knew he talked it over with hik good wife when 
they were alone together ; for in each sober face I saw the 
verdict of their keener judgment than we possessed, which 
foresaw a time when the silver tides of this affection would 
sink amid the thirsty sands of after life. 

’Twas thus the bright-browed summer passed, and in 
her stead came golden autumn showering treasures of 
crimson and amber; harv'ests fresh from the sickle were 
bound and stored ; “ the grapes were purpling in tlie 
grange,” yet we lingered at Ridgely — lingered because we 
had no courage to break the airy tissues of our happiness 
and seek to weave them about other scenes, lest in the 
process they should vanish, leaving us in darkness. At 
length a letter arrived which turned the balance in favor 
of Claremont. Aunt Edith was ill ; Uncle Montana, em- 
barrassed by an unlucky speculation, required the services 
of his sons to set him right. I overheard Mr. Kingswcll 
and Clyde talking softly about the matter, and judging 
from fragments of the conversation which reached me, I 
5 


98 


THE MONTANAS. 


was more than ever convinced that the suspicion I had 
hitherto entertained concerning Uncle Clifford’s original 
investment was correct. I also knew that both Eaymond 
and Stanley were ignorant of this fact ! therefore to no 
human ear did I breathe the knowledge which had unavoid- 
ably come to me. Some things were clearer now that 
before had appeared so dread a mystery. The scales were 
dropping from my eyes ! I thought I knew now why 
they had been so anxious to forestall matters in that regard 
and negotiate a marriage between Stanley and Clyde ; ju^t 
then I was feeling sufficiently malicious to rejoice in secret 
that their plan of bargain and sale was prospectively 
thwarted by her anticipated union with Warren Hayne. 
Though for Uncle Montana, in any event, I foresaw trouble 
in the future. Atstere, uncompromising man that he was, 
loving money as his God, it was very natural he should 
wish to wed his only daughter with great wealth. As for 
Warren, beyond a decent competence he had only his 
fine business capacity and indomitable energy, which were 
in themselves the surest avenues to future wealth and 
honor. 

At length we came back to Claremont. Aunt Edith sat 
up, wearing her sweetest smile with which to greet lis, but 
there was so marked a contrast between the almost trans- 
parent whiteness of her complexion and the hectic glow on 
either cheek, as she rested them alternately against the 
purple velvet lining of her luxurious chair, we were startled ! 
Then the hand she held out to us was so thin and wasted, 
the look of it pierced our hearts with remorse. Why had 
we left her to eke out the frail remnant of her vitality in 
utter loneliness, while we pursued our pleasures ? How 
cruelly selfish we had been ! I knelt beside her ; pressed 
the poor wan fingers to my lips, choking down the anguish 


THE MONTANAS. 


99 


that would not drop its weight in tears; while Stanley, her 
own child, her best beloved, unable to look upon the 
change which had struck us all so painfully, went to her 
own gorgeous apartments, tapestried richly and draped in 
blue and gold, tasselled and mirrored in a style which 
would have rivalled the boudoir of an Oriental princess. 
’Twas thus I found her, an hour later, her face buried in a 
rich couch in her chamber. Warren Hayne’s beloved ! 
yes, and Clyde’s too ! they both loved her. I loved her, 
and would soothe her pain ; and I did, breathing in gentle 
words a hope which I felt to be hopeless ; meanwhile pic- 
turing a future which would be hers even when this bright 
sun of her youth was gone down in the darkness, and only 
the star of his love shining. 

I do not think Raymond really understood or duly ap- 
preciated the change in his worshipped mother. Very 
soon he sat down to tell her of Mary, of his engagement 
and his happiness, she smiling calmly — a sympathetic re- 
cognition of his joy ; but when he went on to speak of 
Stanley and her love for Warren Hayne, she questioned 
until he told her all ! Tlien a shadow fell upon her face — a 
shadow as of disappointed hope — while her eyes sought 
Clyde, whose misery was so proudly still ; only she and I 
guessed how he suffered and how heavily the blow would 
fall on him. 

How wondrously does the social atmosphere affect and 
influence the physical ! Even that insidious foe, consump- 
tion, will relax his hold oftentimes for a little season, and 
allow his victims to linger securely in some sunny place by 
the wayside, even when most intent upon hurrying them to 
the dark shades beyond. It was thus with Aunt Edith, 
who was so happy in having us home again, she rallied and 
gained strength sufficient to take her place at the table 


100 


THE MONTANAS. 


wliich, being physically unable to preside, she had been 
compelled to abandon weeks before. 

Aunt Dinah too was present, who declared it was “ as 
solemn as a meetin’ to have nobody to come to de table 
’cept massa, who et nothin’ hisself— hardly enough to keep 
a fish alive ; all de cookin’ was done for nothin’ while we 
was gone. As for Hawsey, she had pined after Miss Stan- 
ley tell she was no more ’an a shadder ! Pity young miss 
couldn’t a tuck the child along wid her ; but I ’spose it was 
dangerous, dem folks up Norf is so mighty medelsum ’bout 
we niggers.” 

Aunt Dinah’s feelings were almost abundantly poured 
forth in behalf of any one who ate little ; this, in her esti- 
mate, was a state approximating the very climax of misery. 
Even in ordinary conversations, not in the slightest degree 
pathetic, it was Aunt Dinah’s habit to shed tears. They 
were as natural to the old lady as sun and air to plants, or 
as Raymond mischievously remarked, as “ water to a duck.” 
They were the invariable tribute of her susceptible heart on 
occasions either grave or gay. Now, however, the old 
lady was entirely excusable for her indulgence of the emo- 
tion she felt at seeing her mistress well enough to resume 
her old place in the reunited family, and Hawsey, the apple 
of her teaiful eye, reinstalled at her post of honor again. 
Said Hawsey was a faithful little creature, notwithstanding 
her propensity to regard the boys slily from out the corners 
of her bright eyes, and really attached so much importance 
to the performance of her duty as dressing-maid, regarding 
her service as so indispensable an adjunct to Stanley’s com- 
fort, it was amusing to witness her transports on our return. 
I verily believe she imagined Stanley’s hair had not ap- 
peared well once during her long absence from home ; good, 
kind, and indulgent as her young mistress was, she really 


THE MONTA't^AS. 


101 


pcniiitted her to enjoy this belief, wliicli she did even with 
the evidence of well kept glossy ringlets to the contrary. 
Ilawsey’s idea of a land where people waited on themselves 
was anything but flattering to the proprietors of free soil 

o 

CHAPTER VII. 

“ Be wise to-day, ’tis madness to defer ; 

Next day— the fatal precedent will plead ; 

Thus on, Hill wisdom is pushed out of life.” 

Young’s Night Thoughts. 

Claremont ! our fairy land ! How very lovely it was — 
with long, cool verandas, shaded by stately magnolias of 
dark shining foliage, and green slopes swelling southward 
to the gulf and westward to the sunset. 'Wliether in the 
light of morning or the garish brightness of noontime, the 
gradual waning of golden day or soft shadows of evening, 
descending gently as the footfall of angels, it was beautiful 
and its atmosphere was one of perpetual spring. Autumn 
had flitted caressingly over its shady groves and flowery 
walks, just touching with more gorgeous hue verdure and 
foliage, when Cousin Warren came to visit us. He ap- 
peared in a transport of rapture ; actually put aside his 
stately politeness — assuming the elegant neglige ot South- 
ern manners — took his place in our home circle natu- 
rally, as though he had been bred and born to the position 
he then occupied, and was self-constituted sole proprietor of 
his mystic surroundings. Often he would tell us over and 
over how very happy he was. One of his pet indulgences, 
I remember, was to pluck the fairest flowers, toy with 
them, then pull them to pieces, just for the pleasure of see- 
ing them borne afar off on the misty wings of breezes which 


102 


THE MONTANAS. 


came up softly from tlie gulf; again, lie would strew them 
in the path before him as he walked, and trample upon the 
dissevered petals with a careless indifference that wounded 
Stanley. One day she spoke to him of the strange habit. 

I sat upon the upper veranda and could not avoid hearing 
their conversation. He had woven a wreath of orange blos- 
soms and set it afloat upon the surface of water inclosed by 
a marble basin which held the fountain’s falling spray, 
talking languidly as he watched golden minnows leap to 
catch them or trace their shadows underneath. She said, 
softly, it seemed an answer to her thought : 

“ You may decide that I am fanciful, but I never see a 
leaf or flower detached from the parent stem without a 
sensation akin to the keenest pain.” 

He responded in his usual blase manner : 

“ They are among the bright creations made to be en- 
joyed while they last ; ” his look said : Then put aside to 
make room for others. 

“ Gather the rose-buds while you may, 

Old time is stiU a-flying ; 

And the same flower which blooms to-day. 

To-morrow shall be dying.” 

“ Herrick is wise ; he has propagated a very comforting 
sort of logic, which I never fail to adopt.” 

“Yet,” said Stanley, “it is a very sad philosophy which 
teaches men to speak and act thus ; they would he inex- 
cusable for the promulgation of such sentiments were not 
word less culpable than deed ; men of the world affect a 
species of bravado in adopting them. I should scarcely 
expect you could be brought to endorse a theory or prac- 
tice so chilling in its bfiects. Many poets, whom fortunate 
genius has lifted above its severest casualties, seem to take 


THE MONTANAS. 


103 


ail insane pride in thus braving life and scattering its trea- 
sure by the way. I can never recall some of Moore’s de- 
fiant lines without a shudder. Little by little we come to 
extend this selfishness to animate as well as inanimate ob- 
jects, which is apt to lead to practices very pernicious ! 
And were such indulgences unanimously adopted, the 
result w’ould be to sweep all generosity from the universe.” 

“ The attribute of selfishness is more general now than 
you seem to imagine. I have already learned to endorse 
the theor}’ — as every one must sooner or later in his inter- 
course with mankind ; though truly it is a deplorable era 
in the history of an individual — the first faint realization of 
the fact that self-interest is the motive-power which impels 
the machinery of society. 

“ Beyond one glorious truth, I hold all the world to be 
false as it is fair; I am sure if I should learn to doubt this 
fact I should not want to live ! The blight would cover all 
my life, and the chan*ed remains of the structure in which 
I have enshrined its hopes w'ould blacken all the pathway 
to that golden realm of light shining yonder — a goal in 
the blue distances of coming time — and shroud in dark- 
ness the very canopy of heaven. This is the one great 
truth whose existence I feel within the area of my heart’s 
pulsations. There is only one — there can be but one love 
such as you have inspired — ^and since your little feet have 
walked in the hollow wastes of my life, I have known no 
other joy — 

“ ‘ With thee conversing I forget all time, 

All seasons and their change do please alike. 

I love thee and I feel 
That in the fountain of my heart a seal 
Is set to keep its waters pure and bright 
For thee.’ ” 


THE MONTANAS. 


Ah ! when other seasons, with their changes dread, came 
on, did one inky drop of the sad blight succeeding stain 
the crystal waters of the one pure fountain in his heart — 
whose golden seal was crushed and broken in obedience to 
a mandate of the world — the same world of which he talked 
so contemptuously, yet whose voice was stronger than the 
voice within ? Yes, out into this same world he passed, 
leaving the bright golden love-life afar back in its glory ! 
The pearly gates closed after him with a crash that shook 
the solid earth ; on he went through desert ways, joyless 
amid the seasons, gliding swift from flower to snow; that 
same world lying henceforth all between his heart and 
hers. 

“ Ok love I wkat is there in this world of ours, 

That makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah ! why, 

With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, 
And made thy best interpreter a sigh ? ” 

When in Warren’s far away home autumn was wearing 
the faded garlands of departed summer, the winter sky of 
a fearful strife between brother and brother, friend and 
friend, was darkening underneath the heavens. The po- 
litical contest of 1860 terminated in the election of Mr. 
Lincoln to the Presidency, which event was succeeded by 
the withdrawal of all Southern members from the repre- 
sentative hall of the nation, which course resulted in the 
secession of South Carolina, which was quickly followed 
by other States. Our hero began to grow restless, and 
longed for the busy world again. A system of pleasant 
dalliance by the wayside may bring feverish ecstasy to a 
man of active habit, but it can never wholly satisfy or in- 
sure to mind and heart lasting peace. Life is a steady 
current, ever rushing on, on ; we must sail or drift with its 
swift flow, and work our passage that we may come into 


THE ^tOSTA}^AS, 


105 


the channel which joins the ocean tides, which will bear us 
to golden portals of the bright beyond. 

Warren proposed that with the consent of all parties 
concerned, he and Stanley should be married at once and 
return to the North together ; she hesitated, from disin- 
clination to leave her mother in her present feeble health. 
Was it a dim foreboding in my heart that, if deferred, the 
result would be misery for both, that caused me to speah 
as I did ? 

“You are wrong, Stanley, you should go with Warren; 
he wants you, Auut Edith shall be well cared for ; be 
sides, you know not what might come between you 
prevent the ultimate consummation of your hopes. Should 
the national Union, as w'e have reason to fear, become dis- 
rupted, Warren may then be considered an enemy to your 
land ! Would you wish to marry him then ? Again, his 
former enchantress may yet win his love from you ; most 
men are stigmatized a6 fickle, you are well aware; he 
might not prove an isolated exception.” An expression of 
deep pain passed over the features of my friend, though 
she answered not a little proudly : 

“ I do not anticipate the first event to w^hich you refer 
as though the occurrence were almost certain. Our na- 
tional league is too strongly augmented by the sacrifice of 
years to be broken by the guilty efforts of a few shameless 
partisans. As regards Miss Strawbridge, I do not fear 
her ! However, if the result which you intimate be proba- 
ble or possible, it were better I should know it at once ; I 
could not so thoroughly appreciate his homage were it less 
exclusive.” 

Since I have grown older, in justice to mankind I do 
not hesitate to express a belief that so called fickleness is 
only refined exclusiveness. Man cannot lay his heart at 

5 * 


106 


THE MONTANAS. 


every shrine to which he bows a willing knee in amuse- 
ment or courtesy. Warren was not really unfaithful to 
Stanley in the test which followed ; his waywardness was 
wholly the result of events so complicated — so directly 
bearing upon his destiny and hers — he found it impossible 
to break the chain of irascible circumstances. 

When Mr. Montana became aware of the pending issue 
involving his daughter’s preference for Mr. Hayne, he urged 
no grave expostulations, only evinced a pettish displeasure ; 
which was manifest in his expressed wish to have the mar- 
riage deferred: “Wait,” he said; “Stanley was scarce more 
than a child 1 ” He could make no other objection, know- 
ing how his daughter’s heart was in the projected union ; 
he repeated in the interval of deep hard breaths : “Wait.” 

Again, when Warren in person knelt with Stanley beside 
the pale-faced mother, asking the precious boon of her child’s 
love, she could only clasp her trembling hands over that gold- 
en head with its falling curls ; while her white lips, too, said 
“Wait.” Why should those tears have fallen then and 
there, upon the flower-garden of her daughter’s youth and 
hope ? Only I knew how dear to each parental heart was 
the project of uniting her and Clyde, who was the sole in- 
heritor of Claremont and Brightland. His mother held 
nothing, now that he was of an age to claim them ; not even 
the slaves, except by suffrage : hence they looked forward 
to this consummation of their scheme as to a final adjustment 
of pecuniary affairs, of late so complicated and uncertain. 
At this particular juncture, if compelled to repay large sums 
of money frequently borrowed from Clyde’s ready capital, the 
result would be utter ruin. It was because he felt he was 
not strong enough to breast the waves just then, that he said 
to Warren and Stanley : “ Wait ! ” and the pale-faced mother 
repeated after him the one touching, comprehensive mono- 


TEE MONTANAS, 


107 


syllable. I thought I detected in the dark, splendid eyes 
of Clyde a gleam of tender appeal that, too, suggested — 
“ Wait ! ” And my suffering, feverish heart responded with 
sad echo to the joint burden of that of the household — 
“ Wait ! ” and we waited, but not long. 

There was one person who advocated Warren’s claims 
with great vehemence. Kay was the exception to the gene- 
ral expression of deference. He often repeated his asser- 
tion of a former occasion ; that Warren was the most 
fitting match in all New York. Then perhaps he knew 
nothing of the league in favor of Clyde ; or if he did, con- 
sidered that young gentleman abundantly able to assert and 
advocate his own claims. But of some other things he was 
well aware, which we in our blindness did not know until 
long afterwards. 

Notwithstanding all that Raymond said in favor of a 
speedy union, it was decided that the marriage ceremony 
should not be performed until the coming spring. 

One morning, a few days later, it was arranged that I 
should drive down to the city with Clyde to do some shop- 
ping. I shall never forget the picture which met my eyes 
on going to Aunt Edith’s room to receive special injunc- 
tions concerning her proposed purchases ; she sat in a large 
chair near an open window, while Hawsey combed her soft 
brown hair; Stanley rested from her embroidery on an 
ottoman beside her ; and a few feet distant. Miss Ellis, with 
her knitting- work. By the way, I have not yet had occa- 
sion to describe this very interesting personage ; whose 
most prominent characteristic was the aforesaid knitting- 
work, which was ever present with her. She was possessed 
of many family details, which she had repeated until we 
knew them word for word, though the lady in our house- 
hold was a “ sarcophagus ” of silence. She rarely spoke 


108 


THE MONTANAS, 


unless some one addressed lier ; then, if possible, answered 
the question or remark with as few words as possible. Again 
Miss Ellis, or Miss Phoebe as we usually called her, was well 
versed in the complicated record which held dates of every 
marriage and death which had occurred in almost every 
family of note in the section, for years and years agone. 

How she came in possession of so varied and valuable a 
stock of information, was a fact utterly incomprehensible ; 
for she never asked a question, unless, as we surmised, it 
was by some adroit process of storing what she learned 
incidentally; and by the exercise of the rare faculty she 
had of putting this and that together in the prolific soil of 
her own memory, which yielded in case of any emergency 
an abundant harvest of uncontrovertible testimony. 

This little lady, with her quiet ways, had been the lineal 
heritage of Claremont long before the Montanas had lived 
there. During the lifetime of the first Mrs. Ingram, 
Clyde’s mother, she had been employed to superintend 
the arrangement of the household. Upon the occasion ol 
the instalment of Mrs. Ingram second, she had been per- 
mitted still to hold her place. Then when the father and 
master had died, and Mrs. Montana assumed the direction 
of the establishment, she was still held one of the humble 
retainers. Through all these vicissitudes she had been so 
constant and patient in her duty- doing, step by step she 
.had mounted, until now she stood upon the topmost round 
of the ladder, from which high eminence of hardly-won 
confidence it would have been difl&cult to precipitate her, 
for she prided herself much upon this distinction. It was 
not a habit we children had acquired in our bringing up to 
like Miss Phoebe much ! She so persistingly kept upon 
the track of our waywardness, and brought to light all our 
little mischievous schemings ; she was sure to unravel our 


TEE MONTANAS. 


109 


mysterious confidences during vacations spent at home, and 
report them in her quiet way, so that we really stood much 
in awe of her in those days. Now, however, the feeling 
had passed away, and we had grown to appreciate and 
esteem her. It was easy to perceive she was yet a source 
of annoyance to Hawsey, upon whom she kept a sharp eye, 
though by day she never ceased her endless knitting. I 
watehed her now curiously as she sat weaving into the web 
of counterpane upon which she worked, together with the 
notes of birds singing from their stately perches amid the 
foliage of magnolias; these mingled with the uncouth 
croakings of Stanley’s paroquet ! All these were bound in 
long white meshes that fell from her wax-like fingers slowly 
as a moving shroud. Now and then was a square with 
w’hich were interwoven the golden threads of hope — like 
those ninning through Stanley’s bright years. Stanley had 
ever been a favorite with Miss Phoebe ! Again, with the 
dream of Clyde’s young manhood, some darker threads 
streaked the fabric — running strongly and steadily as the 
current of life that was ebbing before our eyes — though we 
scarcely realized it now. How blind we were to the sad, 
solemn truth ! All save the obsendng, kind-hearted, soft- 
voiced woman, who seemed so little likely to observe the 
fact, and yet who knew it first of all. There was no trace of 
the knowledge in her face ; only now as T recall the many 
incidents of that time, I remember too how her manner 
grew more subdued, and then she manifested as unaccount- 
able indifference to many of Ilawsey’s shortcomings ! and 
was seen much less frequently at her post of observation on 
the lower veranda, where her glittering needles were brought 
to bear upon the servants in their daily work. Aunt Dinah 
held undisputed sway in her realm ; and every morning after 
having washed the china, trimmed the lamps, brightened 


110 


THE MONTANAS, 


tlie silver with a piece of chamois leather, and dispatching 
a little dusky emissary to Miss Phoebe with the keys of the 
sideboard, descended thereafter to her own domain — of tern 
times with full an added inch of turban on her woolly head. 
Her importance expanded each day ? And in proportion 
as her greatness increased, her severity to those in regard to 
whom her jurisdiction was faithfully exercised, grew more 
insufferable. Aunk Dinah’s philanthropy had also dilated 
astonishingly ; her tears, usually so wont to flow, now gushed 
forth without the slightest provocation. In short she cuffed 
the little kinky heads below stairs, and wept penitently for 
the offence whenever she came into our higher realm of 
expiation. 

Of many things that were amusing in our household, and 
some that were very sad, I stood thinking while tracing that 
picture of the morning preceding the last evening which we 
all spent together, when I heard Stanley’s voice calling me 
to come in from the veranda where I had stood musing long 
and abstractedly. 

“I wish, Jennie, you would call to see Eetta Austin 
and procure for me if possible the pattern of that worsted- 
work; I cannot go on with this until I familiarize myself 
with the original design ; you will confer a favor by so 
doing, for which I will be very much obliged.”' She 
hummed a little snatch of melody from Trovatore, which 
Paroquet repeated in a hoarser voice. I promised to exe- 
cute her commission, and hearing Clyde descend from his 
dressing-room, I passed out on the front veranda to let 
him see that I was in readiness. I soon received his signal 
as the horses came sweeping round the curve, with proud 
manes flashing and coats like autumn sunshine. How very 
gallantly, almost tenderly, he assisted me into the buggy 
and took his place by my side. We had long since ceased 


TUE MONTANAS. 


Ill 


to address each other save in the presence of otliers ; no^v 
on this particular occasion silence was a luxury : the bright, 
bright river of my dream was gliding on; the golden 
water seemed to touch my feet as we went whirling along 
its margin with a speed that almost made me hold my 
breath, yet scarcely kept pace with its current. I was 
unable to decide if my fancy was not a reality, so strangely 
had this habit of musing grown upon me. At length I 
broke the spell of our silence by remarking, with enthusiasm : 

“ Life seems a dream, Clyde, so blended with the Infi- 
nite that I can scarcely separate the real from the unreal, 
the life here from that I hope for.” 

“ I once thought,” he said, a shadow coming into his 
fine face, “ that life was a dream ! but the dream is over. 
Now it is a cheat, a delusion, a show, full of sound and 
fury ‘ signifying nothing ! ’ an autumn of reality in whose 
atmosphere wither and fade the bright things it brought 
from the depths of that great mystery in which it came — 
into which it shall be resolved again. I am shivering 
through a long November, which is fast darkening into an 
eternal winter. I have sowed — others will reap ; the har- 
vest is not my own.” 

I saw the shadows darken on his face where the morning 
light had been. I wanted to ask why it was so ; if it was 
because he felt he could have no life apart from Stanley’s 
love? Yet how bravely and quietly he accepted his sad 
destiny ! Tliere was no despairing, no faltering of his life 
purpose in the path where duty lay, no frittering away of 
energy and integrity, because of that departed May of life 
and love whose mortal sacrifices are as so many taber- 
nacles reared to the Infinite. The interstices of passion 
lie above its downward paths : these should be avoided by 
the far-reaching vision of a love that may soar beyond ! 


112 


THE MONTANAS. 


enduring as the immortal power whose essence it is — re- 
generated, purified. 

Yes, with the inspiration of his presence round about 
me, in behalf of that other love, that love of his for her, I 
could have said all this and more, had not Lane Austin 
come alongside our vehicle returning from his morning 
drive. 

“ I was coming out to Claremont this morning. Miss 
Jennie,” he said, in his cheery voice. “ I have intended 
doing myself that pleasure ever since we came back from 
the North. I am actually dying to hear the sound of your 
voice ; I have heard no music worth listening to since we 
left Nahant ; you were kind enough to sing for me there 
on one or two occasions, I remember.” 

“And we will either of us sing for you again should you 
come to Claremont for that purpose ; moreover, we will 
welcome you gladly.” He tipped his hat gracefully and 
passed on as we drew up in front of our stopping-place. I 
requested Clyde to come back for me. I looked upon his 
fine face for the shadow when he handed me out of the 
buggy ; it was there, still deeper than ever, and with the 
resolution to chase it away if possible as we returned, I 
started on a journey to perform what Aunt Edith had 
given me to. do. I went first to a dry-goods establishment 
in Canal street. Upon inquiring for certain articles I was 
instructed to walk to the further end of the store. Passing 
a row of assiduous clerks, I came at last to one who fur- 
nished me with numberless specimens of flosses, gay- 
colored worsteds, and fancy articles of every description, 
talkmg busily meantime of the merits of the goods in ques- 
tion, while I made my selection, caring little for what he 
said ; Clyde’s face, with its shadow, was at my side, and 
the bright river flowing far away. 


THE MOXTANAS, 


113 


In my preoccupation I was just on the point of having 
him tie up the wrong package for me, when my attention 
wi\s arrested by the sound of a haughty, imperious voice, 
belonging to a lady who requested, or rather commanded, 
to be showTi very many things — goods of every style and 
quality — as though she had been appointed chief inspector 
of new fabrics, with an air that showed plainly she thought 
she was conferring a great favor by deigning to examine 
them at all, even with no design of purchasing. 

It chanced that Warren Hayne passed that way. She 
saw him, and immediately ordered one of the clerks to 
recall him. ^Vhen he came she seized his hand with more 
tlian her usual wai-mth ; whereupon he expressed in courtly 
terms his unexpected pleasure in having met her. Cousin 
Warren was never at a loss for fashionable badinage ; now 
he told her he had never seen her looking more charmingly, 
even during the palmy days at Nahant. She thanked liim 
cordially, and proceeded to ply a score of inquiries which 
sprang forth with the sharp vivacity of bullets from a seven- 
charged revolver. Firstly, “ if he was quite well secondly, 
if he came South immediately after taking his face from 
their pleasant circle on the Ocean sliore; if he purposed 
remaining long in New Orleans, and how he had passed the 
time since his arrival ? He answered that he had not come 
South immediately after they parted, but had remained 
long enough to arrange his business, so that it might not 
suffer in his absence; that he w^as quite well — in short 
never better, and had passed the time at Claremont so very 
delightfully, it was a source of deep sorrow and regret that 
he should be compelled to return North during the winter; 
but so it was, he should leave on the morrow. 

“ I thought we passed you. Lane and I, as we were driv- 
ing a few days since.” 


114 


THE MONTANAS. 


u I I was on the road with Mr. Ingram ; went with 

him to his place ; fair locality— Brightland.” 

“I presume,” answered Ketta, with an offensive and 
haughty leer from the corners of her sharp black eyes, 
almost hissing the words through rows of pearly teeth; 
“ that is, I am sure you must have passed much of your 
time with Miss Montana. She will be married very soon. 
Father remarked the other day — ‘ Unless Mr. Montana’s 
daughter married Mr. Ingram he was a ruined man. The 
investments in the business, together with Claremont, 
Brightland, etc., are the exclusive property of Mr. Ingram. 
The estates came by his father; Mr. M. has held them in 
trust for many years — now his stepson is of age, and will 
probably want his capital for other purposes.’ ” 

She said much more, which I will not here repeat ; she 
went on talking in that gross, unlady-like fashion, in a con- 
spicuous place, of our family concerns, as though she had a 
personal interest in them, and the information favored that 
interest; talked on utterly ignoring the fact of Warren’s 
preference for Stanley. He said no word, however; an 
occasional answer couched in monosyllables was all the 
response he vouchsafed to other queries when she had closed 
her harangue on this subject. 

“ By the way,” added Eetta, appearing to have forgotten 
until then the very purpose for which she had called him 
in ; “I suppose of course you are aware that Miss Straw- 
bridge has arrived in the city ? I have not seen her my- 
self; it was Lane who informed me her father had grown 
anxious concerning the ability of at least one of his South- 
ern patrons to meet the requisitions of creditors in this 
severe season of almost universal suspension ; consequently 
he came to satisfy himself they would be sustained by effi- 
cient backers in the event of failure. Mr. S. and his daugh- 


THE MONTANAS. 


115 


ter are at the St Charles. I shall call there this morning. 
Perhaps/’ she added, turning carelessly from the piles of 
gosscimer which an assiduous clerk had arranged for her 
inspection, “you will call with me. At all events I hope 
to have the pleiisure of entertaining you this evening, the 
hist of your stay in the city.” 

“ I should be most happy,” Warren answered — though 
it must be confessed he did not appear so just then — “ were 
I not previously engaged, to accept your kind invitation, 
granting the exclusive right to monopolize me for the 
evening. However, I may see you this afternoon.” 

He took her little snow-flake of a hand — it was one of 
Warren’s tricks — into his o^vn, relinquished it, and was 
going, when she said again, assuming an expression of art- 
less simplicity — 

“ Mr. Ilayne, I have purchased recently an elegant floral 
album, and would like so much to have an acrostic or some- 
thing of the sort above your autograph. Really, it would en- 
hance the value of the trifle very much.” Now who could 
have guessed the double purpose that lurked beneath this ap- 
parently single request ! Firstly, perhaps, it was influenced 
by her secret love for Warren Ilayne ; secondly, it boded no 
good either to Stanley or himself. He answered, smiling : 

“ I shall copy an extract for Miss Austin with great plea- 
sure, provided she makes the selection ; but I have out- 
grown the habit of extemporizing on paper for the delecta- 
tion of my friends.” 

The truth wa.s, Warren was in love ! and could not so readily 
di\’ide his sentimentality with the world of women as he had 
been wont to do ; they could have gallantry at his hand, it was 
their due, but he was chary of anything more than the merest 
lip serv ice. 

Again she turned a little uncomfortably to the examina- 


116 


THE MONTANAS, 


tion of rejected laces. Again he endeavored to take his 
leave, though at the very door of the establishment he en- 
countered Miss Strawbridge. A mutual salutation ensued ; 
then a consultation, in which Miss Austin joined delight- 
edly, leaving the assiduous young man to put away his goods 
without so much as thanking him for the effort to find for 
her what she really did not want. Prom my post at the 
further end of the store I beheld these proceedings, the 
finale of which was. Cousin Warren offered an arm to each 
of the ladies, and the trio passed together into the street. 

I was aroused from a fit of musing by the voice of Clyde, 
who inquired if I was ready to go home. I gladly replied 
in the affirmative, speedily rectifying my mistake concerning 
the packages ; then we too went forth into the broad, bright 
noonday, and the city outspread — a map of busy life, its 
fluctuations and its vast concerns — through shady avenues, 
streets dusty and sun-beaten, towards the home-way. After 
what I had heard my ideas were so confused, that notwith- 
standing I traced the shadow still upon his face, I had 
neither mind nor heart to ask him why it was there, and no 
spirit to make the faintest endeavor to chase it away. So we 
two rode on in our accustomed' silence back to Claremont. 

The same evening after I had listened to the conversation 
which took place between Eetta Austin and Cousin AVarren 
in the store in Canal street, Raymond came in — our bright, 
handsome Ray — tossing his brown curls and threading them 
with his fingers, having previously sailed his broad-brimmed 
Leghorn hat upon an imaginary sea ; which, being the 
most accommodating of hats, having, doubtless, imbibed the 
spirit of its owner, came back in a circle to the sofa in the 
upper hall upon which he had ensconced himself ; uttering 
a shrill whistle, meant to illustrate the temperature of the 
day, suggesting furthermore that his gentlemanship was 


THE MONTANAS. 


117 


very much fatigued and would take it in high dudgeon if 
no one came to fan him and inquire how he did. 

Stanley and I were sitting in front of Aunt Edith’s room 
on the veranda, enjoying the soft breeze which came up 
from the hike with the lulling, indistinct murmur of waves 
breaking on a distant shore. Ray’s whistle was unheeded 
very soon he called out, in tones of gay reproach : 

“ Girls, you are inexorable to-day ; however, I happen to 
be possessed of a piece of news which I am sure will startle 
you very much. Jennie, bring your fan ; come sit here, Stan, 
1 want to lay my head in your lap and have you guess who 
is in the city.” I kept silence, waiting for Skuiley to speak. 
However, after several attempts and failures, Ray answered 
his own question volubly : 

“To-day, about noontime, I sauntered into the St. 
Charles, thinking to meet a friend who is stopping there. 
AMiile in waiting I chanced to glance through an open door 
leading into the ladies’ dining-saloon, when I saw Hayne 
sitting at table with an old gentleman whom we met at 
Xahant, and two ladies. I was aware llayne’s stopping- 
place was the Veranda. I was surprised to find him here. 
A second inspection elucidated the mystery. The ladies 
in question were Retta Austin and Miss Strawbridge ! 
Now what in the name of St. Cecilia do you suppose has 
brought her to this city ? and what would she accept from 
Warren after his open rejection of overtures from that quar- 
ter on a pre\dous occasion ? Ah, me ! poor Ilayne I I 
have an undefined conviction she will yet carry off that fel- 
low and marry him against his will ! ” Aftfcr which chari- 
table speech our sage Raymond composed himself gently to 
sleep. I fanned him patiently until the hour arrived which 
I had appointed to see Miss Austin, if possible, for the pur- 
pose of executing Stanley’s commission. 


118 


TEE MONTANAS. 


I drove down with a servant that afternoon; Clyde 
came later, behind his ponies. I met both Warren and 
Miss Strawbridge at Mr. Austin’s. That haughty young 
lady bowed very formally indeed when Eetta pronounced 
my name, as though the accent insulted her or was associ- 
ated in her mind with something very unpleasant. 

She absolutely frowned as Warren said to me, when, 
after having obtained the samples for Stanley, I rose to 
depart : “ Wait a bit ; I will drive with you ; ” then glanc- 
ing hastily at his watch, added : “ I forget I have an engage- 
ment to meet Ingram 'precisely at six ; I will come out with 
him.” This word, and the accuracy of his emphasis in 
speaking it, were peculiar to Warren. When I had taken 
my seat in the carriage he said again : 

“ This little affair will not occupy me long ; please say 
to the ladies I will do myself the honor to join them early 
this evening. Au revoirr He went his way ; and again I 
passed from the heated city into the shades of our conse- 
crated home. 

He was true to his word ! he came early. I sat with 
Eay upon the veranda, when we saw them coming out on the 
shell-road, he and Clyde in a light buggy together. How 
handsome they were ! How radiant they appeared, wafting 
graceful salutations to us as they came round the curve, 
caressed with slanting sunbeams. The blush of red autumn 
was upon the landscape and waves of the lake. The roseate 
hue deepened as the sunlight paled in shadow ; but the 
flush was in our memory long after, whenever we recalled 
the day upon which our fate came to us in the form of Miss 
Strawbridge. 

Clyde sent his cream-colored ponies and buggy with his 
groom back for Uncle Montana ; then joined us in the west 
parlor, where the glow of sunset was lingering still. That 


THE MONTANAS. 


119 


was a liappy evening. By tacit consent no one spoke or 
seemed to think of Miss Strawbridge. We were very gay; 
even Aunt Edith joined us. It wjis only one of a series 
spent thus in the same manner, but there was a strange 
charm in it ; I know not why, save that it was the last we 
were to have like it on this earth. Aye ! was it the last 
of clear bright sunsets and shadowless moonbeams falling 
through dark green foliage of fir and palmetto ; the last 
circle of smiling faces at the sumptuous board ; the last 
musings and tender whisperings as evening waned ? Ah ! 
yes ; the hist of everything as it had been ; of all things 
saving the farewells — one for a long time, and the other till 
eternity. 

Before Cousin Warren left us that night a chill autumn 
rain fell. It seemed to pervade all things like a dense 
gloom, and wrap its vestments around the sufferer. Which 
one ? is now the query of my heart as I write after the 
lapse of a few years which seemed to have been ages. 
^^'e heard the sound of falling rain upon the house. 

It was over ; Warren, was gone I but the rain and autumn 
leaves were falling still, with a dreary sound which drowned 
the music of the fountain. Vapors thickened about the 
Gulf, slowly descending and wrapping the harbor fleet 
like a shroud. I kept my watch at the window of my own 
apartment for a long time ; then I went to Aunt Edith’s 
room and found Stanley sobbing on her mother’s breast. 
Alas ! liow many tears she shed in after time, when there 
was no bosom for her but her Saviour’s and her friend’s. My 
own was always faithful. 

When silence brooded in the great house and the world 
without; when slumber descended upon bright eyes, love- 
lighted with hope and joy, and eyes weiglied down and 
weary with the long out-look ; when there were tears in the 


120 


THE MONTANAS. 


eyes of the stars — I saw the orange-wreath that Warren’s 
hand had made, as it lay blighted in the misty night, beat- 
en by the fountain’s falling spray, cast hither and thither 
by the drifting rain. A moan came up from the wide grey 
sea, as if in its great deeps the gusts of a hidden storm were 
breaking. 

I went and- sat by Stanley’s side while she slept — a smile 
upon her fair young face. I knew she was dreaming of 
days that were like golden ripples on a sea which was 
shaken as by a presaged convulsion, whose moans were 
like human voices — agonized suffering in the changeful 
night. 


0 

CHAPTER YIIL 

“ For all that in this world is great or gay, 

Doth as a vapor vanish and decay.” 

Spenser’s “ Ethns of Time.' 

The flush was gone from the red autumn ; leaves fell sor- 
rowfully with sharp sprinklings of snow that fell glistening 
like frozen pearls upon the grass ; scarlet berries hung in 
clusters looking sweetly picturesque, with their frame-work 
of nut-brown foliage flaming amid palmetto and larch. I 
had never seen a Southern winter look so gloomy and for- 
bidding ; the orange wreath lay withered where the foun- 
tain fell, and that bright river which had hitherto kept pace 
with my life, was no longer a part of my musings. I seemed 
to have been brought nearer to a dim space, shrouding the 
vast ocean with its tides, in the two months that had elapsed 
since Cousin Warren left us. The winter gaieties were full- 
fledged; old courtiers were wont to say they had never 
known a season so filled with attractive entertainments. 


THE MONTAKAS. 


121 


We, being novices, were compelled to participate, and were 
courted and flattered with attentioij from all quarters beyond 
our power or desire to retaliate. 

Thus the days passed, and we out into the unknown. 
Winter was drawing to a close. No word from Cousin 
Warren since he reached home. Once or twice he had 
w^ritten by the way, and that was all. What could mean 
his cruel silence? Alas, its consequences were plainly 
visible ; Stanley drooped. I scarcely know how she was 
enabled to pass through the ordeal of her formal introduc- 
tion into society, yet she glided with her habitual queenly 
grace through scenes bewildering enough to have quite 
dazzled one less firmly poised. I remembered the words 
Warren had spoken on first beholding: “I have never 
seen one so youthful appear so empress-like.” I have 
beheld since, how that same expression trembled on the lips 
of many within the circle of her own home. What to her 
were words of adulation ? They did but mock her, secretly 
pining as she was for the faintest sound that told of him. 

One sad day the mystery was explained in a manner 
which struck me dumb with astonishment. I chanced to 
pick up a Northern newspaper Clyde had let fall as he came 
from the breakfast-room. Glancing briefly at the contents, 
I was about to throw it aside when my eye fell on a marked 
paragraph, with Milverton’s initials below traced with a pen- 
cil. Warren Hayne and Mies Strawhridge were married f 

It was this intelligence that so amazed and shocked me. 
I could not for some time avail myself of a single idea ; at 
length, however, 1 found myself possessed of a vehicle 
through which I could transport my thought to the star- 
tling truth, uprisen in all its vast proportions, where the 
flowers of the old hope lay crushed and fallen. It all seemed 
80 strange, so new and dreadful ! I made my way to Stan- 
6 


122 


THE MONTANAS. 


ley’s apartment, entirely unprepared for the sight that met 
me there. Was that white^ fixed figure^ sh still and cold., with 
glaring eyes of ocean hlue^ our joyous^ merry-hearted child — 
our Stanley f 

I never should have been able to identify her but for the 
sunny hair falling in golden masses over her rich dressing- 
robe. She rose to receive me calmly, very calmly, so much 
so that I, in my agitation, was brought to doubt that she 
was yet aware of the strange, incomprehensible fact. Still 
no word from hel’ lips, only that fearful, fixed look in her 
white face. My heart seemed burning within me — the room 
was reeling. I must speak. In as steady a voice as I 
could command, I said : “ Stanley do you know — have 

you heard ? ” 

Every precaution failed me here ; I burst into tears. I 
would have clasped the poor stricken bird to my heart, but 
that look on her face, so white and stony, repelled me. My 
eyes were dry now ; she was first to speak. As she did so, 
a look of wildness came into her beautiful eyes, but no glow 
to her marble cheeks. The red current seemed to have 
ebbed from sight with the tides of that bright dream and 
the shores of the old time. How strange and far back in 
the past it seemed; after all, it was only one of those 
exquisite shapes which float in the dim air about us, yet 
find no likeness in stern truths of every day. How many 
bright tissues we weave about the forms we love and hope 
to clasp so fondly ; yet at last, how they elude our eager 
grasp and float beyond our reach. Then we go our way 
through the semblance of things, our better, nobler, higher 
selves lying in the grave of some vain endeavor. I saw it 
would be thus with Stanley ; all heart and tenderness seemed 
utterly gone ; all that was fairest, loveliest, and best, sat 
mourning the far-ofi* time by the mortal remains of her 


THE MONTANAS. 


12a 


bright, beautiful dream. Her words came slowly and 
hoarsely : 

“ Yes, I know ! I have better authority perhaps than you 
have ; he was kind enough to forewarn me in a letter 
which arrived this morning. I should have taken your ad- 
vice, Jennie, which was, I believe, to clasp the chain about 
my captive when the effort would have cost me less and 
the distance have been more convenient. I envy you your 
relative^ 

I was cut to the heart by her cool sarcasm ; so wounded 
by this unnatural taunt, I forgot at that moment her suffer- 
ing and her wrong — everything. I now think that the 
burst of passion to which I gave vent was her saving ordi- 
nance. My words relaxed the heart-strings winding more 
and more tightly around the swift coil of fate for a final 
terrible crash. 

“ Stanley, I think now you should have married Warren 
when he wished it ; you loved him and he loved you ; it 
was owing only to caprice that you did not go with him 
when he willed it. But for this delay you might both to- 
day have been happier. You may have been the chosen 
instrument to save himself and others; you rejected the 
ofiice. Has conscience no voice in the matter ? I have no 
word to offer in extenuation of his conduct ; but I do say I 
believe it will be much modified when we come to know all 
the infiuences that impelled him to this hasty course.” 

“ I never wish to know more than I know now ! All the 
gilded tissues in the world could not disguise the horrible 
distorted fact. The very thought of extenuation is abhor- 
rent to me. Loved him ? Ah ! yes, as I, poor silly child, 
loved him he will never again be loved. That love was the 
glory of my life ! It lighted the earth by day and the hea- 
vens by night. I came to womanhood with no other 


124 


THE MONTANAS, 


thought or hope than those which circled about and cen- 
tred in him, my ideal of all that was high, generous, and 
noble. How it is fallen and lying in the dust at my feet ! ” 
She sat for some time so still-looking into the dark space 
that had opened into her young life so soulless and cold, I 
was really alarmed. She added, with a bitter mocking smile : 

He said he loved me, that he lived but for my smile ; 
he called me tender names, but now — oh ! I believe 1 am 
mad ! for Warren Hayne’s kisses are burning on my lips, 
and his tones of endearment ringing in my heart ! Oh ! if 
I could only strike them from my memory as he has rilled 
my hope ! Could I but tear his image, with its earnest 
eyes — yet reading my soul — mocking me with that false 
one of his — from my life, and die. Ah ! yes, death, decay, 
darkness ; anything is preferable to this agonized torture. 
Oh ! why do I feel as if there was no truth on earth, and 
even God were false ! For is not he, Warren Hayne, now 
pouring into the listening ears of the woman he has chosen 
the story of the miserable little dupe who thus loved him ! 
whom he deceived and trifled with ! And she is gloating 
o’er her triumph ! — the triumph achieved through her paltry 
gold.” She arose and walked the apartment slowly ; she 
was not agitated, on the contrary she was still so pretema- 
turally calm I really feared her ; to arouse gentler thoughts 
I spoke of her mother. 

Oh ! my mother,” she exclaimed, something like terror 
rising in her white face — whiter than before, but motionless 
of muscle and fibre as a tablet which marks a grave ; “ she 
must not know this, Jennie ; it would kill her outright. Let 
no word on this subject to any one escape your lips. 1 
will fight this battle with myself alone.” She emphasized 
the pronoun singularly,, that other self she meant; she 
seemed to be seeking to discern it through new dim spaces 


THE MONTANAS, 


125 


— backward lying in her life — as she continued : “ Never 
name it even to me. I have done with it utterly as though 
it had never been. I regret nothing so much as the crushed 
idol fallen on the dusty way which I must tread.” She was 
tearless still, but there was a look of such utter weariness on 
her beautiful face that told of a great soul-sickness within. 
My heart bled for her, poor stricken bird, but I could only 
wait until the ice was broken up. I recalled Warren’s 
w^ords the last evening at Nahant. I saw as then the great 
sea with its waves crashing near, and the storm rising in 
its heart. Far out through mist in the depths of that im- 
measurable space into which she had drifted I saw the lone 
ship cutting her silent way, waves lashing her gilded sides, 
wind crashing through her sails, driving onward to the dim 
unknown. Ah ! could Warren, lashed to a dull shore which 
she had left, do cheerfully his work of life’ with eyes fixed 
on that timid sail fiuttering white in the distance, which grew 
wider every hour ? I felt then that his would be a drearier 
task than hers in the time to come ; so I spoke hopefully : 

“ Stanley, you are young and beautiful and 'proud, Rise 
above this thing ; strength will be given you to do so, I 
firmly believe. It will be hard. I know what it is ; for I 
have not myself been without sorrow. I tell you this, that 
I may claim the privilege of enduring with you ; we will 
bear together in silence^ yet in sympathy, this heavy burden, 
until we come to a calm resting-place in the great journey.” 

“ Thank you, Jennie, my true, true friend; I will accept 
what you so kindly offer — confidence, sympathy, everything 
— any other time ; but to-day I am better off alone. Leave 
me, dear, and go to mamma; she will miss me, and she 
must not know ! ” 

There was both appeal and warning in her face : in it I 
traced a gleam of the old self — the childish, guileless self — 


126 


THE MONTANAS. 


looking througli tke eyes of tins strong woman, who had 
so proudly mocked the image of her idolatry a few moments 
earlier. Seeing this, it was hard to leave her ; but she 
wished it and I went. I heard her bolt the door ; then all 
day long she paced to and fro ; I, waiting in dumb anguish, 
served her meantime as best I could. 

Aunt Edith inquired for Stanley. I answered her with 
as much cheerfulness as I could assume ; telling her Stanley 
was suffering from an attack of nervous headache ; had not 
slept the previous night, and wished to remain alone in her 
room ; she would soon be with us again. Then I gave 
Hawsey private instructions not to disturb her young mis- 
tress by going to her room ; ..she was sleeping, and would 
not come down to dinner. There was no one j^resent when 
that meal was served, excepting Miss Phoebe and myself. 
Aunt Edith did not appear, and the gentlemen were not 
home until evening. Aunt Dinah was enjoying her usual 
state of tearful solicitude about members of the household 
in general : her sympathy was manifest in effect. She con- 
sumed herself a double portion of the viands left untasted 
on the table, abundantly grateful for the blessings of Provi- 
dence, among which was health and strength to enjoy what 
was prepared for others. 

I carried a dainty little repast to Stanley’s room ; but 
she entreated me in tones of such broken suffering not to 
force anything upon her, that I descended again to the 
dining-room with her food untasted. Aunt Dinah’s ban- 
dana was brought into solemn requisition. She had fears 
for “ Miss Stanley, poor child.” My heart echoed faintly, 
“ Poor child ! ” yet I felt no sorrow for her in that guise, 
loving, simple, trustful, hopeful — like that I now felt for the 
woman, full-grown, developed in suffering — to whom these 
qualities were lost, and could never be restored. 


THE MONTANAS. 


12 "/ 


All that long, drowsy afternoon, with a secret knowledge 
how the spirit of this woman, stricken and proud, was 
strmng with itself, I did my duty as usual ; I read aloud 
for Aunt Edith while Hawsey brushed and plaited her long 
brown hair. Miss Phoebe sat knitting, gentle and still, 
while the sunshine came in, barring walls and pictures, the 
bookcase, and bed where Aunt Edith sat propped by pil- 
lows — bringing upon shining wings the odor of flowers 
— faded and gone like the summer the murmur of the 
fountain — all were alike to what they were on a certain 
morning when I noted them before. The group, wanting 
one flgure, was likewise the same. I heard the words of 
Hawsey in her idle talk, mingled with the steady rattle of 
Miss Phoebe’s needles as she knitted into the fabric of other 
strange occurrences, the broken threads of this broken dream 
of Stanley’s. Its crash had not yet jarred upon the house- 
hold, which moved in the routine habitual to it. The har- 
mony was still unbroken. Golden ripples of sunlight crept 
lower on the wall; at length the shining track grew crimson and 
disappeared entirely. Grey twilight came softly ; then the 
dimmest of darkness fell upon the picture and broken dream. 
The sun was gone down into a great, wide, inexorable sea. 

I heard Kaymond’s voice in the hall calling, as usual, for 
his sister. I was amazed at the black, lowering brow with 
which he received the intelligence that she was not well. 
He gave me a piercing look, which I answered with a glance 
of assurance to him that she knew all and would bear it bravely. 
He drew me with him into the dining-room, in obedience to 
some little words of caution which I dropped concerning Aunt 
Edith. There he drew from each pocket a revolver, burnished 
and glittering, with silver-mountings flashing in the dim light. 

“ In the name of Heaven^ Eay, what would you do with 
those terrible engines of death ? ” 


128 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ In the name of Heaven^’’ lie answered, “ I shall kill that 
contemptible villain who has deceived and wronged my 
sister.” There was, indeed^ murder in his eyes ! I could 
only shrink and tremble ; I was powerless to do or say any- 
thing that would turn him from his purpose. Poor, poor 
Stanley ! Our pet, our pride, our sunshine ! * It was upon 
her that Warren Hayne had put this bitter insult. I saw 
it now in that light. Before, I had only thought of the 
suffering she must endure. My tears fell fast and burning, 
though I gulped down the hump in my throat and went to 
Bay, her brother, so stricken at the thought of her grief, 
lifted the matted curls from his fevered brow, and running 
my fingers through them, as was his custom, I essayed to 
speak — with poor success. He promised,- however, to aid 
us in keeping the knowledge of what concerned us all so 
nearly from his mother. He did not relinquish, yet did 
not repeat the threat of vengeance : I saw his purpose 
deepening as the darkness gathered without — growing more 
solemn and certain of fulfilment every hour. Yes, I saw 
it, trembling with dread. 

It was a strange, dismal meeting round the tea-table that 
evening. My uncle was not present ; Clyde was moodily 
silent, as usual ; Kaymond’s brow wore somewhat the aspect 
of gathering thunderbolts. As for myself, I was thinking 
of Stanley’s strange words in the forenoon, and did the 
honors constrainedly. Kay pushed his plate away, to the 
discomfiture of Aunt Dinah, who had broiled his quails to 
the nicest shade of brownness, leaving them untasted, and 
went slowly up-st^irs. I heard him knock once, twice, 
thrice, at the door of Stanley’s apartments. He was ad- 
mitted, and remained a long time ; finally, when he came 
down, looking softened and subdued, the thought of his 
threatened vengeance passed out of my mind. I carried a 


TEE MONTANAS. 


129 


cup of tea to Stanley to please poor Aunt Dinah, who was 
growing more and more wretched and tearful every hour for 
the shortcomings of our degenerate household. 

I found my friend lying on a couch, her beautiful hair 
streaming wildly over her white pillow. Hawsey followed 
with a lamp, but Kay had lighted one of the wax tapers 
which stood on her toilet, so I motioned the faithful girl to 
leave us ; she obeyed with tears in her eyes ; they were in 
mine too. I prevailed on Stanley to drink the tea ; she 
was very pale, but I was rejoiced that no trace of the 
haughty woman, who had so sternly looked her desolation 
in the face, remained. She was tearful and silent, yet ap- 
peared patient and gentle as a child. She wound her arms 
about my neck and kissed me ; well I understood that silent 
caress. She was mutely asking my pardon for what trans- 
pired in the morning ; I looked my forgiveness all^ but not 
a tithe of the great love which made her a possession of 
my own. I told her I was vain enough to feel that I had 
a place in her heart which no oiie else could fill, and that 
when the wheel went round and she came back to the place 
where she had left me, she would want me then and would 
not hesitate to let me know it. And so it happened from 
that hour — in every confiict with herself she achieved a 
victory over that stern, hard usurper of the morning all alone. 

On the following day Stanley arose and went about her 
ordinary life as usual; dissevered from the life that was 
ended, yet never looking back; no, nor forward to that 
which was to come ; she took her place at her mother’s side 
as though nothing had happened. The severest mandate 
of grief is that we are ofttimes forced* to wear a mask with 
which to hide its gnawings.' 

Stanley’s embroidery was resumed ; the knitting was in 
a comfortable state of progression. Hawsey combed Aunt 
6 * 


130 


THE MONTANAS. 


Edith’s long hair, whilst I read from the great volume. 
The father did his work of life in the city, assisted by Eay- 
mond and Clyde ; in our household everything was going 
on as it was wont to do ; only I observed with pain how 
Stanley grew whiter, more silently taciturn day by day. 
She often spent hours by herself; during which seasons, 
with the effort of keeping from Aunt Edith and the servants 
the knowledge of her sorrow, my energies were taxed to 
the uttermost. 

One afternoon she sat for a long time listlessly looking 
into space. I think she was unconscious of her attitude of 
deep pre-occupation until aroused by words of her mother : 

‘‘ Where has been my sunshine of late ? She seems to 
have taken refuge behind an overarching cloud of silence 
and reserve. Stanley, my pet, what is the matter ? ” 
“Nothing,” the white lips answered. 

“ Nothing, dearest, are you sure ? ” 

Again the white lips moved, though now ’twas only an 
echo, repeated more faintly — “ Nothing.” 

The swift fingers of Miss Phoebe entwined the disavowal 
with her record of events. Hawsey’s bright eyes were full 
of unshed tears as she trailed the coil of rich brown hair 
into a Grecian knot, then went out to shed them in secret. 

Aunt Edith’s head drooped lower on the pillow; her 
heavy lids fell dreamily ..upon two sunken cheeks. To her 

life was a spirit fetter, nothing more ; yet to Stanley 

Ah ! was it nothing that the strong stay had failed her 
when most loved and trusted ? Nothing that the ivy ten- 
drils of her sweet affection had been rudely torn from their 
support, and lay crushed and withered on the earth? 
Nothing that the universe was changed and the light of day 
gone from the face of heaven ? Ah ! nothing ; the white 
lips said so. My heart repeated the echo of other words 


THE MONTANAS. 


13 ^ 


spoken by other lips in other time and place, when the 
chain was cemented, and two shadows blent in moonbeams 
on the sanded floor ; as Warren Ilayne led Stanley forth 
one evening long ago. The world, which seemed now so 
narrow and blank, then was wide and fair, and life was beau- 
tiful ; but now, all this was nothing ! I repeated the word 
in the depths of my spirit many times. Only another 
stricken heart deprived of its anchor, hope ; from a twin 
bark dissevered, drifting out with the great tides of human 
destiny. The orange wreath lay withered where the foun- 
tain fell — the beautiful river was lost amid barren sands on 
a desolate shore ; its golden ripples broken to ebb no more, 
and a solitary ship driving on through mist and darkness, 
outward to the far-lying sea. I began to feel it my 
duty to inform Aunt Edith what had occurred to make 
this change in Stanley. I signified to her my intention of 
imparting something of importance; she bade me send 
Hawsey out of the room. Miss Phoebe was to remain ; she 
was one of us. I had commenced my narrative of sorrow- 
ful events, with which the reader is fully acquainted, when 
Retta Austin dashed into the room like a domestic tempest. 
She took great liberties in our household, so she informed 
us ; half expecting we would gainsay a fact of which we were 
all too sensible. She excused herself, however, upon the 
ground of her anxiety respecting Mrs. Montana’s precarious 
health. It was this which induced her to avail herself of 
the opportunity of coming out with Lane, who was on his 
way to Brightland. Her quick eye caught Aunt Edith’s 
look of depression, and my own of inattention, as she rat- 
tled on in her voluble fashion for a while ; then inquired of 
Miss Phoebe for Stanley. The gentle little woman replied 
by looking hopelessly in my direction ; which appeal I 
readily interpreted, and replied that Miss Montana was 


132 


THE MONTANAS. 


suffering from a severe attack of lieadache, and requested 
to be excused to visitors. 

“ How long has sbe been thus affected ? ” she answered, 
witb sarcastic coldness. I saw the drift of her thoughts — 
knew before the reason of her coming ; Miss Austin never 
did the slightest thing without a concealed purpose. I 
replied, with a haughtiness which equalled her own, “ that 
Stanley had lain down since dinner.” She sat for some 
time biting the fingers of her dainty glove ; at length she 
said, sharply : 

“ I presume you were all much surprised to hear of Mr. 
Hayne’s marriage ! ” 

Miss Phoebe’s knitting-work actually dropped from her 
fingers. I answered Aunt Edith’s glance of inquiry with 
an affirmative gesture, merely signifying that this was 
what I meant to tell her. She composed her face with an 
effort for which I blessed her in my heart, and replied that 
she had felt very little emotion on the subject. 

“ Oh, no, of course not ; the difference to any one at 
Claremont would be very slight, whether Mr. Ilayne were 
married or single in one sense ; though I supposed his 
friends” — she emphasized the word — “and relatives” — 
here she looked at me; — “ would naturally feel some little 
interest in his welfare, if only to rejoice in his having secured 
to himself so fortunate an alliance. Miss Strawbridge is a 
great beauty, you know, besides being a millionaire.^'^ 

I was only consoled in our joint endurance of this last 
palpable insult, to feel how these words had ploughed 
through Retta Austin’s haughty heart and left their furrows 
there. I felt I never could have been brought to retaliate 
in the spirit which prompted her to say these things ; for 
she too loved my cousin Warren with all the strength and 
fidelity of which a nature like hers was capable. Both 


THE MONTANAS, 


133 


Aunt Edith and myself were silent. When the black eyes 
were brought to bear on Miss Phoebe she merely said, 
“ Indeed ; I was not aware he had been so favored.” Her 
speech referred merely to the money arrangement, after 
which she resumed her knitting with the usual quietness. 

After a few cursory observations, each pointed and signifi- 
cant, Miss Austin took from her pocket a tiny rose-colored 
note, sealed and scented, which she left with Aunt Edith 
for Raymond, remarking merely that it contained com- 
missions which he had promised to execute for her in the 
East. 

I fear my face must have expressed the terror I felt ; I 
knew I was pale •; the life-blood was sinking slowly, and a 
coil of agony' seemed tightening around my heart. I 
answered quietly as I could : 

“ Of course, he will take great pleasure ; he goes, let me 
see, when ? ” 

“ This afternoon, I think ; he told me he thought he 
should leave on the five o’clock boat to-day. I called at 
the bank, but failing to find him, I came this far with 
Lane. Of course you will see him ere he departs.” 

I was agonized beyond expression ; Miss Austin, without 
designing to do so, had been of infinite service to me. 
There was no time to lose. I rang the bell and ordered the 
carriage hastily ; left Aunt Edith with a promise to return 
speedily as possible. I then went to Stanley’s room and 
informed her what must be done, and done quickly. She 
was lying listlessly, her slender fingers clasped over her 
white brow, from which her golden hair was flowing. It 
seemed cruel to bring this new terror upon her, though 
she was prompt to feel the force and exigency of the case. 
When the carriage came round we were ready to depart. 
Swiftly down the road over which Clyde and I had passed 


134 


THE MONTANAS. 


on that bright morning in the autumn-time we glided now 
On through busy thoroughfares and avenues all shady and 
fragrant with the breath of exotics, and by streets crisp 
and sere, teeming with life that was warped and withered, 
we passed to Uncle Montana’s banking-house. Kaymond 
was gone. We threaded our way through the busy 
throng on the levee, in imminent danger of being swallowed 
up in the tumultuous din, when Lane Austin, who had 
come down to superintend his father’s shipments a moment 
before, rescued us with great suavity. In answer to my 
inquiry he said, “Kaymond is on board. I saw him 
standing with Ingram on the upper guard. I will en- 
deavor to secure his attention for you.” So saying, he 
conducted us aboard, and after a few inquiries at the office, 
led us back to an apartment near the ladies’ saloon, in 
which sat the truants for whom we were searching.. The 
door was partially ajar; I saw at a glance that Clyde’s 
attitude was one of eager appeal, while Ray, our bright 
sunny Ray of old, now he was moody and still, his brows 
knitted in angry, gloomy defiance. How changed he was 
of late ! He started slightly on beholding us, but recovered 
himself instantly ; he endeavored to carry off with a high 
hand the part which he meant to play in this new, strange 
drama, though he found the effort very difficult beneath 
the calm scrutiny of his sister. She bent her white face 
over him with a look from which there was no es- 
cape ; she would speak, and he must listen ; and he did, 
though the look of firm determination did not leave his 
glorious eyes even when he resolved to hear all that she 
wished to say. 

There was no visible emotion when she did speak in hei 
face or voice, only she crushed my hand until the little 
plain gold ring, my love-gift of childhood, was almost 


THE MONTANAS, 


135 


buried in the flesh. My eyes followed the donor — once a 
brother, now so no more — as he passed through an outer 
door to the guard, and stood watching the sun-bright sur- 
face of the calm, still river, and the winter sun, half hidden 
in its heart. Bright beams gathered round, seeming to 
caress him with their sheen, while their fiery fingers toyed 
with his dark-brown locks, and danced to fairy music in the 
clear depths of his splendid eyes. How strangely Stanley’s 
words broke on the spell with which I contemplated him — 
his attitude and expression. 

“ Kay, why did you leave us, with never a word of fare- 
well?” 

The brother was silent; he did not tell her it was 
because he had seen how that silent sorrow was daily 
making inroads in her young life, and he could not bear to 
meet the look in her white face, mute evidence of the 
change a few short hours had made. He who loved her 
did not tell her what was in his thought and mind ; how 
we had in her home seen the orange blossoms lying crisp 
and withered; and through the crushed and broken dream 
no golden river glided. The rosy current, like the last 
tint from the sunset sky, had faded, and there were only the 
white, still waters of her young existence bearing the frag- 
ments of a morning hope to the far sea. Our hearts bled 
at the sight ; we could not bear to look upon it, though there 
was majesty in those depths of woman-nature thus revealed 
by the sudden sorrow — the majesty of one ready for the 
journey — equipped for the warfare with life and with fate. 
In answer to this new-born strength and power, profound 
respect was added to her brother’s fondness for his sister. 
The recognition of these attributes trembled in his tones 
when he answered her : 

“ Stanley, I did not tell you, because — because T go to 


136 


TEE MONTANAS. 


settle a terrible account with one who bas wronged you.” 
He broke down bere utterly ; tbe faintest flicker of color, 
like tbe tinge of crushed roses, came up in ber white cheeks 
for a moment, then sank again ; a wave of tbe old life 
touched once again tbe desolate coast where she was 
stranded. She did not falter in ber purpose. I have beard 
such words but once, and hope I shall never bear them 
again. Ob ! the eloquence of woman’s lips, trampling 
pride with every selflsb consideration beneath ber feet ; sbo 
can only speak as Stanley did when pleading for tbe life of 
him she loved, who was so far and yet so near. Ah ! so 
near, bis presence in ber own home — walking its paths 
with bis kingly tread, crushing tbe flowers be scattered 
there. Nearer still, enshrined in ber innermost heart of 
hearts, yet smiling peacefully from out blue spaces lying 
misty and far — distant beyond an eternal gulf, immutable as 
tbe shining heavens and tbe word that ‘‘shall not pass 
away.” 

“ Raymond, once for all, if you love me — if you have 
ever done so — bear me now. You must not go to Warren 
Hayne as tbe champion of a proud woman who would not 
thus admit and acknowledge bis slight, if I died for locking 
it in my heart. Do not cast this stigma upon me. His 
life could not bring back my trust if be lost it, neither 
could that atone for what I should suffer in tbe knowledge 
that my name was bandied, tbe plaything of careless sport- 
ing tongues, as one whom be had won, betrayed, and for- 
saken. You have not thought earnestly of this thing, else, 
even in your just desire for vengeance, you would not render 
me liable to what I should incur in the event of his death 
at your hands. Besides, you mistake me ; I do not regret 
Warren now ; ’tis only what perished with him — my glorious 
ideal of manliness, my former self — that wasted year, and 


THE MONTANAS. 


137 

all the other things that would never come back to me in 
this world, if he should die a thousand times over. 

“ Besides, again, he may not be so culpable as we deem 
him ; the tenor of his brief letter I do not comprehend ; it 
is ambiguous. What can he mean by this sarcastic refer- 
ence to miserable misunderstandings that have occurred, 
and the letters he has written me that have remained un- 
answered ? WTiy, because they were never received ; then 
his closing benediction : ‘ I hope you will be happy in your 
choice. Perhaps it was all for the best.’ What can it mean ? ” 

“ I regard that as a miserable subterfuge ; nevertheless, 
yours is perhaps the right view of the subject. It shall be 
as you say. Now I wish to speak to you of other things, 
of which Clyde and I have talked this morning ; matters 
are arranged for your acceptance or rejection.” 

I left them here, and passed out through the door, and 
stood beside Clyde in that strange silence which of late 
was with us always. 

“ Were you aware of Kaymond’s purpose of visiting the 
North ? ” I asked, at length. 

“ Yes,” he answered, somewhat drily ; “ though I imagine 
his main object was to meet cousin Mary ; though I believe 
he would have held Hayne accountable for his recent con- 
duct towards our sister.” 

Our sister ! I was not his sister ; he had told me so once, 
and I was thinking of it as he stood looking dreamily at 
the water, then at the far-off sky, where it met and embraced 
the sea. Again the silence ; I thought now it would never 
end. What if it should last from gliding age to age through- 
out eternity ? Yet better this than the words which dropped 
slowly like molten iron on my heart, and hardened as they fell. 

“Aljean, I believe you love me as a sister, though 
sometimes I have been led to doubt even that. Now I 


138 


THE MONTANAS, 


want to ask your advice on a subject of vital interest to all 
concerned in it. My step-father, who, as you know, has 
ever been indulgent and kind to me, has long ago set his 
heart upon having us married — Stanley and myself. He 
has frequently referred the subject to me indirectly. Until 
recently I have set the issue far from both of us. Now she 
is unhappy ; if I, in my sad way, can do aught to make the 
thorny path a little smoother for her feet, I will endeavor 
to do so if I assume the sacred duty. Let me hear what 
you have to say ; what I offer her rests with you entirely.” 

Reader, I thought he was mocking me ; and my answering 
words fell seethingly from lips that were rigid and cold. 

“ And you submit this to me, Clyde Ingram ? How 
could weak word^ of mine weigh against the voice of your 
heart ? It would be as a faint echo amid its sounds, a thing 
of air. What is my poor opinion worth to a man that 
stands so far beyond me — up among those rising stars yon- 
der ? Yet you have asked it, and you shall have it. Marry 
Stanley by all means ! She is not particularly fond of you, 
to be sure, but you, who have loved so long and so ardently, 
can allow for the lack on her part. If she, can unlearn some 
other lessons of her life, she may come in time to love you.” 

“ According to the evidence of your words and manner 
it would be an exceedingly difficult task,” he answered, 
with bitter calmness ; “ as regards what you say concerning 
my life-long devotion to her, I should certainly deem you 
insane did not other passionless utterances convince me to 
the contrary. You have clearly forgotten, I see, what it 
gives me both pain and pleasure to remember ; but that is 
far back in the past. I too will try to forget it has ever 
been, since you have not only outgrown the memory but 
have chosen to ignore the fact that the truth ever existed. 
Mine will not be a long life ; I have a prophetic assurance 


THE MONTANAS. 


139 


that you will sumve me many years. Some time, wlien the 
grass is growing through and through my heart, or the 
snow lies cold upon it, you will count its throbs of these 
silent days and know why I submit to you this last appeal 
under so strange a semblance. You will know it all then, 
and in the solitudes of coming years the burden of a prayer, 
gone by will come to you, from which you turned to-day. 
Yours must be the final fiat. These months of silence are 
your wish and will ; I have taken no appeal from them save 
this ; you can take none upon the silent ages that ensue.” 

For answer I drew the little ring, which I had worn so 
long, from my finger and placed it in his hand. I even 
tried to smile when I said, “ It must be yours now, Clyde ; 
you will soon be a married man, you know.” 

“ There is one thing needful,” he added, in tones whose 
bitterness was tempered with graceful humor — Stanley’s 
consent. Cannot you and Mr. Austin take the prece- 
dence ? ” 

In my astonishment I never knew how it came to pass 
that Stanley, for her dear mother’s sake, put her hand in 
Clyde’s and murmured some words about doing her duty 
towards him. Ah ! she never thought then of any vaster 
duty omitted in the very onset. A simple act of the State 
Legislature can legalize, but can it do the rest of many 
things involved in a marriage whose chiefest consideration 
is of duty that should be pleasure ? 

Lane Austin came to see us on the shore, appropriating 
me to himself naturally as though I belonged to him. Then 
we left Ray, charged with a kind farewell to his mother, 
standing on the guai’d ; and when Lane saw us safely in our 
carriage, he, too, went his way, and we three in the winter 
twilight drove back to Claremont. Clyde silent, as usual ; 
Stanley’s head upon my shoulder, her beautiful hair all wet 


140 


THE MONTANAS. 


with mist or tears, I know not which. It all happened so 
strangely, yet we found burselves sitting quietly in Aunt 
Edith’s room ; Hawsey was sleeping bolt upright on a 
cushion, and Miss Phoebe’s busy needles were knitting into 
the eternal mesh the events of this strange day. My past 
life, as I recalled it, seemed like some wild, weird dream, 
broken here and there by the gleaming of a golden river of 
hope ; but the bitter agony with which I too fought my 
battle to its close and the victory achieved through God’s 
aid, that was not a dream. 

A few evenings after I stood upon the veranda which 
bordered the west parlor looking out upon the far sea, lying 
cold and solemn and grey in the star-spangled starlight, 
when a low voice beside me asked : 

“ Of what were you thinking, Jennie?” 

I started slightly ; a shiver ran through my frame : a shi- 
ver that was half delight and half the chill of fate ; but I 
answered in low firm tones, with the voice that always came 
to me in my childish days — 

“I was recalling a portion of Maud Muller; you remem- 
ber reading it to me one evening when we sat under the 
cedars at Brightland — 

‘ For of all sad words of tongue or pen, 

The saddest are these — ‘ It might have been. ’ ” 

“ Whittier was wrong, Jennie. There are words sadder 
far than these — of fuller, more bitter significance — ‘ It 
could not 5e.’ ” 

To my death hour I shall never quite forget the tones in 
which Clyde Ingram uttered these words. I can hear their 
cadence still, and feel again the same wild impulse rising in 
my heart, to ask — Why it could not be ? Had I done so, the 
barriers would all have been swept away ; but some fate 


THE MONTANAS. 


141 


kept me silent, and the struggle with which that silence 
was rife, Clyde Ingram never knew. Now at the close of 
years, which have rung their deep and solemn changes 
in between — I conclude that quotation as though he was 
this day my hstener : 

“ Ah I well for us all some sweet hope lies 
Deeply buried from human eyes ; 

And in the hereafter angels may 
Roll the stone from its grave away.” 

0 

CHAPTER IX. 

Spring came — 

“ Flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam : 

Wealth in the gale, and freshness in the stream.” 

Its whisper was in the breeze, from the lake and the 
moon, from the sea. All its voices were sounds of glad- 
ness ; flowers up-sprang where footprints were sunny 
through woodland ways. In our bright, beautiful home 
were flowers and sunshine everywhere, without and within. 

“ The world leads round the seasons in a choir — 

For ever changing and for ever new.” 

“ Blending the grand, the beautiful and gay. 

The mournful and the tender in one strain.” 

I 

Though in our home there was a white face growing 
whiter day by day, we were happy that she lingered with 
us. Now there was no denying the fact — Aunt Edith was 
sinking slowly : the unfailing needles of Miss Phcebe told 
the story. During the oft-repeated recital we often saw 
how their lustre was dimmed with silent falling tears; the 


142 


THE MONTANAS. 


result was, they were a trifle more tardy in their round of 
duty than formerly. 

Oh! it is dreadful to watch the slow consumption of 
vitality — a lingering death in life. It has ever been my 
prayer that to me or mine it should not come. 

Stanley sat all day long now by her mother’s side ; yet 
when evening came— soft and balmy as evenings this season 
and clime are wont to do — when Aunt Edith slept a sleep 
of exhaustion, she would steal into her own beautiful room 
and sit thinking, with her eyes fixed on a little silver track 
of moonlight that always came and rested, brightened and 
faded at her feet. On coming one evening to her room, 
while she sat musing thus, I saw that the disc was overcast 
and the little beam paler even than usual. 

“ Stanley, darling, why do you sit here in the shadow ? 
come into the piazza, it is very bright without,” she 
answered sorrowfully. 

“You are right; but I do not enjoy so much what is 
given alike to all the world. This little ray is mine. It 
seems a symbol of your dear generous love, Jennie, which 
always comes to seek me out when sitting lonely in the 
shadow at evening time.” 

I kissed the sweet, white face upturned to mine, lovingly 
as of old. The tears that were in my heart, despite my 
effort, would break hoarsely into my voice when I spoke. 

“ Yes, I come to seek you, Stanley ; sometimes when I 
fear I am annoying you — often when I should leave you to 
yourself ; but the house seems to- want you, and then I too 
need you so much. It is from no merit of mine this love 
for you in my heart so constantly arises, and will not be 
put down. You yourself compel the sentiment by render- 
ing yourself necessary to my happiness. I hope I shall 
never see the day that will separate us entirely.” 


THE MORTANAS. 143 

I . . • 

j ‘‘Nor I, Jennie ; you must live with me always after ; after 
I this marriage, you know.” She spoke resolutely — shudder- 
j ingly. It was the first time since the evening of Kay’s 
I departure — in all our confidences — :this subject had come 
I between us. Now I trembled so violently, I feared lest she 
I should observe my agitation and divine the cause ; I adopted 
the subterfuge of appearing to misinterpret her. I turned 
my face away as I answered carelessly, taking first the pre- 
caution to steel my voice against the pain that was rankling 
in my heart : 

“ Yes, I presume Kay and Mary will marry very •soon. I 
1 imagined as much on first becoming aware of his intention 
to establish himself in business at the North.” 

It was long before she spoke. Eye and thought strayed 
from her little track of moonlight, out upon the purple space 
: upwards, where worlds shone dimly and far off, like the 
t dream and prayer gone by. 

“ No, Jennie, you do not understand me ; it is not Kay’s 
I marriage to which I refer, it is my own; yes, my own I I 
have come to a point from which I can estimate very calmly 
things that must be ; they are in my destiny and will hap- 
pen ; I cannot avoid them — I shall try to do so no longer. 
It will make my sweet mother happy before she goes to see 
me marry Clyde and become permanently settled. It will 
save Claremont perhaps from strangers, and will require no 
sacrifice on my part. What little tenderness is left in my 
nature I consecrate to that brave, generous brother-husband, 
who will claim me. I will try very hard to make him 
happy ; with your help I think I shall succeed. But, Jennie 
dear, I always believed Clyde loved you, and sometimes 
have hoped you cared for him, until recently you have 
treated him so capriciously and coldly. Now do not curl 
your lip in that fashion, Jennie, and look at me so defiantly, 


144 


THE MONTANAS. 


I am not going to censure you. I should not do so even if 
I felt I had the right. I meant no reproach that it is not 
so. These things are beyond the range of finite will ; we 
have no power over them whatever.” 

All along I had found myself hoping that Stanley would 
not marry Clyde ; now I sat quite still while she told me 
these things ; my bright, bright dream was ended — passed 
away utterly as though it had never been. Oh, why could 
I not speak out and tell her all I felt, and all that I should 
suffer in such an. event ! No no, it were best not ; Clyde 
loved her with more than a brother’s devotion ; she might 
in time learn to love him well. I at least would not deprive 
her of his strong, true arm, or grieve her with the .story of 
an unloved, bleeding heart. Perhaps I should conquer it. 
My triumph would be one among the silent victories 
unwritten upon any record of earth. But oh, when tablets 
of the Infinite shall be brought into view, then will every 
leaf upon which the sacrifice that cost us most be unfolded. 
I should accept patiently my doom of loneliness ; not even 
to my sister-friend would I tell what was in my thought 
then. Farewell bright dream, thou hadst been set among 
“ stars that shine and fall,” withered now like the smallest 
“ fiowers that drooped in springing.” Again farewell,, for 
all of earth and mortal time ! As I speak the w^ords, I hear 
their dim echoes resounding through all thy vLstas, hollow, 
soulless world, and pealing through dim, unlighted vaults 
of the Eternal. 

I thought of my golden river fiowing only in the past, 
and the solitary ship out upon a broad, deep sea ; but now, 
the bark was not Stanley’s ; another heart and life were in 
it, yet it drifted on and on, never resting, no anchor cast, no 
beacon burning on the further shore. Oh, that the winds 
which drove the tides should be gathered together for a 


THE MONTANAS. 


145 


little season of respite, in the hollow of one mighty hand, the 
same Father hand which held the threads in the compli- 
cated web that in one short year had been woven about us 
all so strangely. 

Stanley came to me on the following morning, saying she 
had just heard from Raymond. He had entered the house 
of Mr. Kingswell as book-keeper, and designed remaining in 
Wayburn. He would be married in a few weeks, and wished 
us to come on immediately. 

He will take no refusal, Jennie,” she added ; you must 
go. I cannot go there I Anywhere else. I shall not see 
Ray married, though I would love to do so.” 

“ I think he cannot reasonably expect either of us. Aunt 
Edith is so ill, and ” She interrupted me. 

“ Mamma is no worse than she has been for months, Jen- 
nie. Miss Phoebe is with her night and day ; Hawsey too 
is there ; what can be done will be done without your 
assistance ; that is why I ask you to go ; some of us must ; 
I cannot.” 

After all, thought I, it would be a change ; that was what 
I most needed; my strength was fast giving way. At 
times my resolution almost failed me ; I should go because 
it \fould be very hard if no one from Claremont should 
witness the marriage of our only brother and son. 

I went quietly from room to room assisting and directing 
Hawsey, who was making necessary preparations for my 
departure. The mother’s sad eyes followed me ; there was 
a wistful tenderness in their depths. I knew she was think- 
ing she might never see Raymond’s bride ; yet she possessed 
a strange unaccountable conviction that her boy had chosen 
wdsely and would be happy. She had known the father of 
Mary Kingswell. Miss Phoebe’s burnished needles ap- 
peared likewise to have caught something of inspiration 

7 


146 


THE MONTAKAS. 


from the prospects of our eldest born, manifest in their acce 
lerated motion. 

Just one year from the time we first left Claremont — 
with its peaceful groves and broad expanses of sky and sea 
stretching far away — we took passage on a boat for Louis- 
ville, en route for Way burn. We found things much as 
usual. Uncle Montana and myself, when we arrived. There 
was the same brisk atmosphere, the same white spires and 
New Hampshire hillsides — the same neat pavement lead- 
ing up to the great square house, with its terraced grounds 
and ivy-wreathed columns ; the Kidgely flowers and sun- 
shine too were there as I remembered them ; the family 
group and the home-lights beaming. When we came into 
their brightness', I felt the old choking anguish giving way 
and my heart growing joyous with its influence. 

Uncle Montana was formally introduced to Raymond’s 
bride elect. It was wonderful to witness the magic effect 
which Mary’s simple beauty produced upon this staid, seri- 
ous man of business ; it was, as he himself expressed it, with 
a flash of the old gallantry which reminded me how I had 
seen my father kiss the hand of my sainted mother many a 
time ; it was the very beauty of gentleness, goodness, and 
purity. We passed systematically as possible through the 
necessary greetings. Mary claimed uncle’s attention for a 
time ; when I had submitted to being vigorously hugged by 
that amiable bear Raymond, I ran off to find Mr. Kings- 
well. Oh ! how I loved him ! There was that in my soul 
which bowed in reverence at the shrine of his integrity, so 
lofty yet so blended with humanity that even the lowliest 
might have envied him the attribute. ^ 

“ So you are come, Aljean ; we are delighted to welcome 
you back ; Ridgely sadly missed your presence when you 
left us, though we never forgot you in our morning or 


THE MONTANAS. 


147 


evening prayer-time ; when the sun was melting into sha- 
dow, and mists gathering about the far hills you loved so 
well. Why did not Stanley come ? ” 

He looked pained and grieved at my answer, so I wound 
my arms around his neck and laid my head against the noble 
heart that had a kindly sympathetic throb for all humanity. 
Mrs. Kingswell, having disposed of uncle to their mutual 
satisfaction, left him to the enjoyment of bath and siesta, 
and csime to join us. I said, as we took her into the circle 
of our clasped arms : 

It is strange you find in your life a space that can be 
filled by any of us who are so unworthy, when you have 
her^ so patient and so good, with you always.” 

He answered me, his eyes beaming with all that he felt 
for this good true wife : 

“ She is my gift from God, for which I daily, hourly 
thank him. I undertake no work but she is by my side to 
do and bear her part ; there is no task too diflBcult for 
those hands of hers to assume — no burden of mine too 
heavy for her heart ; and we have sought to teach our child, 
our Mary, who will leave us soon, that the end of life is not 
here ; that this is only a season of daily tasks ; the circle 
must be travelled — a circle that terminates in another 
larger circle which holds other duties and other worlds in 
its grand compass ; and so the work of life must go on ; the 
strong must help the weak ; those who do most are those 
to whom the power so to do has been given. But of Stan- 
ley, why did she not come with you, Aljean V' He asked 
me frankly, and I answered him in the same spirit. 

‘‘ Aunt Edith was not well ; in truth she is very poorly, 
and then Stanley has had a hard trial recently. Cousin 
Warren, you know” — I could not say deceived her ; I could 
not feel it thus, with all the evidence against him. 


148 


THE MONTANAS^. 


“Ah ! yes, I understand ; his marriage was purely a mer 
cenary affair ; I cannot tell what else could have influenced 
Hayne to sacrifice his happiness to this base end ; though 
he told me once, Stanley had trifled with him ! Averred 
that he only made the charge in justification of his appa- 
rently capricious conduct, which nothing could explain so 
well as her own written words. I thought he misjudged her, 
though he half succeeded in making the impression that he 
had been injured : whether he was suffering from pique 
that his truant game at hearts for once had failed — he had 
lost and she had won, though he held the stakes.” 

“ Warren deceived you ! ” I answered, vehemently ; “ I 
should like to tell him so ; she it was who staked all, and 
lost; though, if I meet him, I will play the game to its 
close. He is conscious of having won that child’s heart, 
and trampled its holiest feelings into the dust ; but no one 
shall know this. Stanley will marry Clyde Ingram ! And 
thus securely pin before the eyes of a discerning world the 
veil that he has dropped there in his wilful pleasure.” 

Mrs. Kingswell put up her hand with a quick gesture, as 
if to ward off an impending blow. I saw I had surprised 
and wounded them both, though I had only spoken truth. 
Withjout knowing just how to make amends, I withdrew 
from their kind clasp, and went out to seek Mary and Eay- 
mond. I found them sitting under the shadow of a dark 
fir, he twisting a cluster of wegelia into her brown hair. I 
kissed my finger-tips and passed them by, for I was think- 
ing how treacherous hands had woven orange blossoms for 
Stanley’s wealth of golden hair, and set them adrift ; and 
how they withered where the fountain dropped its liquid 
spray — murmuring ever ; and the great universe whirled 
its round as though they yet were fragrant, and her white 
brow wore not a crown of thorns instead. 


THE MONTANAS. 


149 


Uncle Montana saw me from Ms window, and came forth 
refreshed to join me, offering his arm, which I accepted. 

“It is delightful, here,” he remarked; “seeing those 
happy children, Jennie, reminds me of the time when 
your father and mother were married.” I led him gently 
along the hillside-path to the cemetery, till we came and 
stood by the graves of long ago! There were two grey 
stones — lichen-crusted and bowing — bearing each the name 
of Montana. At the feet of these, a plain, white marble- 
slab was erected more recently. We stood silently beneath a 
gilead tree, while the long grass whispered how peaceful had 
been their sleep ; then he spoke so sorrowfully, his words 
cutting through my^ heart like a knife : 

“ I would give anything I possess, Jennie, if I had not 
suffered myself to lose sight of my brother and his young 
bride. I never saw them after I left home, first. It is the 
way of the world to grow so busy, we forget or eschew our 
heart duties ; one by one we allow our old associates to 
drop from the circle we run — too much preoccupied, or too 
careless to retain them, until at my time of life, when we 
have come to a smooth place in the journey, and have leisure 
to look about us — we discover ourselves standing almost 
entirely alone, as when we first began the march. Then we 
miss what we have recklessly cast aside — what has drifted 
from us as the hurrying tide swept by. Oh ! this constant 
struggle for wealth is a cruel thing ; it rifles life of so much ; 
even home-ties grow irksome amid its feverish toils.” 

“ I presume, uncle, that no human being goes through 
life without some regrets clinging to him — sorrow for the 
lost, the treasured things he would have liked to keep. 
But you have been so kind to me,. so considerate in supply- 
ing every want of my father’s orphan child — you have spared 
no pains to make those you love comfortable and happy.” 


150 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ And yet, outside of my own household, I have none to 
love me ; I have done no deed of kindness to suffering hu- 
manity — thus writing my name upon hearts in which the 
hard strife with life would, at least, have left room for gra- 
titude. I have toiled ; but, oh ! how selfishly. What I see 
and know of this man has put my poor abortive schemes 
to sorry shame ! I look back upon my life to the structure 
I have erected ; it was the work of years, yet it totters 
now upon the verge of ruin — will soon be broken into frag- 
ments — leaving me in return only the crushing burden of a 
miserable failure. Ah ! better that quiet, unhonored sleep, 
than all this strife and tumult through years, to so little 
purpose.” 

Uncle, your words strike a tender string very keenly ; 
they grieve me ; we never become acquainted with life, at 
least with its joys, until they are ready to leave us. The 
bubble has burst, and we relapse into ages of silence again.” 

Even you, Jennie, and my own children, seem to fear me 
sometimes,” continued my uncle, speaking as though my 
words had left no trace upon the thoughts which welled up 
within him. “ I saw you embrace Mr. Kingswell as you 
never embraced me ; is it that you love me less than this 
stranger, my child ? ” My arms were around his neck in 
an instant ! At last I knew my uncle ; the crusty covering 
had fallen off and his heart lay bare to my view ; just as he 
himself had found it, after having stilled its longings, put 
aside its requisitions for years. As you will find yours, 
man of business, some sudden day ; the little frail thing 
will ultimately grow too strong for you — it will rebound 
from the hard heel of your world service. It is God’s 
voice speaking, and will be heard ! The divine voice of 
love which is eternal. 

‘‘ It is because Mr. Kingswell loves to have us caress him ; 


THE MONTANAS. 


151 


lie is never too busy for this process ; though we love you, 
dear uncle, just as dearly as if we had taken the liberty 
of manifesting that love.” 

“ I see it all. I have made a cruel mistake ; but it will 
be so no more ; by these graves, I make a resolution to 
have it otherwise.” 

Mr. Kingswell summoned us to tea. When we came 
up the walk Eay and Mary joined us. It was a pleasant 
gathering round the cheerful board that evening, barring the 
shade on Mrs. Kingswell’s brow, caused by what I had told 
her concerning Stanley’s intention to marry Clyde. They 
loved their adopted nephew, and the prospect of an unloving 
wife for him was like gall to their spirits. 

After tea we took our places on the piazza, as we were 
wont to do in the previous summer, talking of many things ; 
while the moon rose up, wrapping its silvery tissues around 
the forai of her who on the morrow would be a bride, as 
she walked the terrace with Kaymond at her side. I thought 
of another bride in her stately home, wondering if her young 
husband was as happy as we hoped Ray would be. Then 
again I thought of the fair, childish head, with its sleepless 
eyes watching the silver track of moonlight as it rested on a 
lonely pillow. I knew she was musing of us. Oh! why 
were some wreaths made to be blighted? and some blos- 
somed into life, never displaced or withered ? Last of all I 
thought of another, whose dark eyes seemed always seeking 
something through mist and space, thinking — thinking — 
Ah ! nobody knew, for he never told us ; a cruel silence 
sat evermore upon his lips. A chain of silence linking two 
lives, yet a barrier driving them apart. 


o- 


152 


THE MONTANAS, 


CHAPTER X. 

“ But happy they — the happiest of their kind. 

Whom gentle stars unite, and in one fate 

Their heai'ts, their fortunes, and their beings blend.” 

Even an event, great, solemn, and mysterious almost as 
death, could not break the routine of duty and habit in this 
orderly household. Save a few extra preparations in the 
culinary department, and a few extra flowers in the several 
vases, the travelling trunk packed and strapped standing on 
the piazza, there was little change apparent ; one might 
have thought it an everyday occurrence to have a bride 
leave home. 

It was wonderful to see how the gentle mother bore up 
and spoke cheering words to Mary, who more than once 
broke down in the performance of some little duty for the 
household, or as fresh tokens of her parent’s kindness came 
to her. To those who weigh and estimate it as they should, 
marriage is scarcely less solemn than death ; it is putting 
oE life, with its accustomed forms and usages, for the 
assumption of new duties ; an exchange of the certain for 
the uncertain, parting with idols of childhood for a promise 
of love and care that are richer, more treasured. 

It was not for long, however, that the faintest misgiving 
clouded the sweet face of Mary ; when Ray, bright and 
handsome and cheerful, came down, the mists all cleared 
away ; she ever had for him a greeting full of trustful 
affection. Once, I remember, as we threaded the terrace 
walks, he stooped to touch a sensitive-plant, saying to her 
mother as he did so— This is like Mary.” 

“ I am almost broken-hearted when I think that Ridgley 
will he her home no more,” the mother said, with quivering 
lip ; ‘‘ when next she comes here it will be as a visitor.” 


THE MONTANAS. 


153 


It was hard ; many a mother’s heart has known a similar 
trial ; the sun-heam that so brightened home scenes ; the 
flower whose fragrance was emitted with every da’wn till 
close of day, gone to lend their sweetness to another love- 
nest. In the old home there is only a vacant chamber; 
footprints lingering in the accustomed ways, marked less and 
less frequently by the little feet the mother has so tended 
in childhood, the presence fading from her view ; the chair 
of age untended — this is what marriage is. Duties multi- 
ply in the new sphere of action, and the young bride will 
learn gradually to do without those whose care was once 
her greatest happiness. 

Eayniond and Mary were to live at Wayburn ; thus to 
parents and child there came no pain of prolonged separa- 
tion. Very bright and beautiful was the wedding-day. 
I was amused, when, in answer to the customary question 
of the minister, “ Do you take this woman ? ” (fee., Ray’s 
clear, “ I do,” was articulated with such firm heartiness. I 
observed the smile go round ; though it faded silently from 
lips that trembled slightly when they saw the father come 
to kiss his child. He could not speak the words he had 
meant to, only pressed her to his heart and left the room, 
weeping. Oh ! what a brave, loving keart, was his ; and 
how tenderly it had held and sheltered her in its depths for 
eighteen years. Mary had been a good girl, always dutiful ; 
and the feeling between them appeared almost lover-like in 
its delicate manifestations of fondness for each other. 

The mother never once lost her self-possession during the 
ordeal ; yet in the silence of her own apartment, when the 
guests were departed, and we far on our way to a distant 
city, I thought of her, knowing that she was weeping and 
praying for her child. 

Uncle Montana, being in haste to return to Claremont, 
7 * 


154 


THE MONTANAS. 


left us at New York. I remained to see tke young hus- 
band and wife safely ensconced within their new home. 
We spent several weeks delightfully- at the Metropolitan. 
Among numerous cards of invitation came one from War- 
ren Hayne, which we neither acknowledged nor accepted. 
They seemed to anticipate such a reception of their cour- 
tesy, for, waiving ceremony, they called at our hotel. Eay 
mond, his wife, and myself, were in our private parlor when 
our unwelcome visitors sent up their cards. We consulted 
about the matter, deciding that it was best, for Stanley’s 
sake, to exhibit no pique in consideration of his treatment 
of her ; therefore, the servant received instructions to show 
them up : accordingly they came. 

Mrs. Hayne, with her blonde hair, blonde face, blonde 
eyes, and bland, insinuating manner, bestowed much con- 
descending courtesy upon his beautiful bride, though she 
greeted Kaymond with haughty formality. I, in my dress- 
ing-room adjoining, heard Warren’s full, rich tones, in con- 
versation ; they always thrilled me strangely, despite my 
better judgment. Now he inquired in accents of well 
affected indifference for the family at Claremont ; he was 
not aware, it was evident, that Stanley had remained at 
home ; for when I appeared, in answer to his wife’s express- 
ed wish to see also the young ladies — the Misses Montana — I 
observed that her dutiful husband kept strict surveillance 
over the door through which I emerged, doubtless expect- 
ing her to appear. 

She did not come,” I remarked, maliciously, in response 
to his frequent glance, my lips writhing half in amusement, 
half in scorn. For answer, he fixed upon me his large, 
brown eyes, in such reproachful sternness, I absolutely 
quailed beneath their searching pride. Why did this man’s 
spirit thus ever vaunt its power over me ? When I raised 


THE MONTANAS. 


155 


my ej es, there was something in his face of agony endured, 
and a look that seemed to say through mine he would read 
her soul, and know why matters were as they were. 

Singular ; for months previous to this anticipated meet- 
ing with Warren Hayne, I had arranged and rehearsed the 
amiable speeches with which I meant to lacerate his feel- 
ings. Now, why died the words unspoken on my lips? 
It was because in his one stern glance, I read a story of 
strife and victory, a spirit loftily poised, resting from the 
untold struggle. He rose naturally and offered me his arm ; 
I accepted it mechanically : and again I found myself 
walking with my cousin the long corridor, my hand held 
fast as he was used to hold it, in other days scarce one 
year past. I wondered why he asked me no questions con- 
cerning Stanley ; hut he only talked in his usual courteous 
manner of things that were and things that had been; 
never, once touching upon what was in my mind a constant 
thouo*ht. I did ftot then know man-nature as I have 
learned it since, or I should have accepted this avoidance 
of facts as the strongest possible evidence that he, too, was 
thinking of her, and the other time — gone ; in affaires de 
coeur^ the thing of which men think most they speak least. 
Other motives may have hifluenced his silence on this 
special topic. 

He told me it was his earnest wish to have the pleasure 
of our exclusive entertainment for one evening at least, 
during our stay in the great metropolis. He would arrange 
it so that the entertainment should not interfere in the 
slightest with our previous engagements. He had pre- 
viously spoken to Raymond and Mary, who submitted the 
matter to me. Tliere was nothing left for me but an un- 
conditional assent, which I gave. 

We returned to the parlor. I sank upon a sofa in a 


156 


THE MONTANAS. 


maze of strange reflections; I could scarcely realize the 
occurrences of that afternoon, even when I saw cousin 
Warren standing at a distant window, one hand resting care- 
lessly on Eaymond’s shoulder, while with the other he held 
that of the young bride, to whom he talked gaily. I saw his 
well formed Grecian lips relaxing into smiles ; I heard his 
deep familiar accents, but I could not distinguish the words 
he uttered, for my golden river again was flowing — flowing 
somewhere. I sat listening to the liquid music of its 
waves — perhaps the sound came up from the past, during 
this little ebb of time — I know npt. I was unconscious of 
all things, save that I was dreaming impossible dreams — 
impossible of realization in this world, for their season had 
gone by. 

Cousin Warren said, in his blandest, most insinuating 
tones, preparatory to theit* leave-taking : 

“ We have set Thursday evening for our party, Jennie ; 
you will come — come early.” We promised; at the ap- 
pointed time we went. 

Once in that stately home, with its lights and music and 
summer flowers, I could dimly realize the temptation which 
had beset Warren to secure Miss Strawbridge’s fortune — 
with herself of course — after his accidental discovery that 
Claremont was a possession of Clyde Ingram’s. Everything 
was in magnificent keeping ; grandeur was apparent in the 
minutest details ; every arrangement was perfect, from the 
elegant dressing-room, into which we were conducted by a 
neatly attired maid who gave the finishing touch to our 
elaborate toilets, to the supper-room in which was served a 
repast fitting for the most fastidious palate. Warren did 
the honors with his accustomed ease of manner, while Mrs. 
Hayne presided chosen goddess of the cofiee-urn, in a mari- 
ner which so entirely won my heart, I almost forgave her 


THE MONTANAS, 


157 


for having a blue ribbon twisted with ber blonde bair, 
after tbe fashion in which Stanley was accustomed to weave 
it with those golden curls of hers. Tbe wine was so fra- 
grant we imagined it must have been distilled from roses. 
I tbinb if I bad not been fortified with a second glass of 
debcious Rhine, I should never have found courage to speak 
to Cousin Warren as I did that night. 

We had returned to the drawing-room ; guest after guest 
came pouring in — the tinted waves of fashion. I had 
passed through an ordeal of such frequent introduction to 
people for whom I cared not a farthing — whom perhaps I 
should never meet again — I was very weary ; some way, 
the gay voices and sounds oppressed me. I was stealing 
off to the dressing-room — skipping lightly up the stairs to 
the music of a well timed varsovienne, when Cousin Warren 
called out : “ Come back, truant ! ” at the same time, circling 
my waist with his coat sleeve, he drew me forcibly into the 
dancing apartment. Notwithstanding my protestations, he 
led me to a position. It was during one of the pauses in 
the figure that he remarked, somewhat sadly : “ Although 
they were accustomed to have dancing parties every week, 
he had not danced once since we were at Nahant the pre- 
vious summer.” I waited to give him the opportunity to 
speak again before I said my say ; but he did not. 

“ Ah ! what a delightful season we had there ! our 
promenades on those long, cool verandas overlooking the 
sea, all-mighty and vast, with the sweet moon shining on 
its troubled waves.” 

He changed his position slightly, put his hand into the 
breast of his coat ; I felt his fingers tremble slightly against 
my own, which reste® in the circle of his left arm ; but ho 
did not look at me as I went talking on : 

“ Cousin Warren, there is a picture in my heart to-night; 


158 


THE MONTANAS. 


two figures standing on tliat long piazza overlooking the 
sea — tlie moonlight blends their shadows in its silver fall. 
One had played a part until his heart and soul were sick ; 
I see him take the hands of that beautiful girl in his own, 
exclaiming : ‘ ’tis time this mockery should cease.’ Trust- 
ing, she gave him her heart; but the mockery was only 
then begun. The picture fades as it has done before ; 
other figures come between ; in different lands, upon sepa- 
rate stages, I have seen each play a part since then. They 
do well. This last scene in the melodrama is rendered 
with special effect ; I am enjoying it immensely. Ah ! the 
false has mocked the true, stealing its semblance the long 
way through — wearing its regal hue ; she has spoken, yet 
no word from you.” 

His face was very pale, and the lines about his handsome 
lips were drawn tightly. It seemed impossible for Warren, 
usually so easy of speech, to syllable one word of the many 
that were craving utterance from his ‘‘heart of hearts.” 
At length he said, hoarsely : “You are right ! the mockery 
was only then begun ; now it must go on ; I presume it 
will last as long as life ; she has willed it, so let it be. How 
is she, and why did she not come ? The sight of her could 
not unman me now ; I have lost the hope of that time. 
This later phase of life upon which you comment so bitterly 
has little connexion with the trial which preceded my 
adoption of what doubtless seems to you a strange course. 
Though through all I am conscious of having preserved my 
integrity of heart.” This was said with a proud loftiness 
which, under the circumstances, could scarcely have been 
equalled ; though his accustomed blandness came into the 
tones in which he added : “ Will you be kind enough to 
answer my questions concerning Miss Montana ? ” 

If I had not believed he was feigning, I should have 


THE MONTANAS. 


. 159 


driven the shaft less keenly than I did ; as it was, I was 
merciless. 

“ ’Tis easy to talk of ‘ integrity of heart ! ’ Coming 
from you, it goes very far towards making up the sum-total 
of a lifetime mockery ; however, let us speak of this no 
more. Stanley is well and looking charmingly. She 
would have come North this season, only we could not 
both leave Aunt Edith, who is quite ill. I came on with 
uncle ; Stanley remained at home with Miss Phoebe and 
Mr. Ingram in charge of her mother.” He turned upon 
me, a glance of angry inquiry flashing in his eye ; I an- 
swered his thought as upon the occasion of our first meet- 
ing in New York. 

“Yes; she will be Clyde Ingram’s bride this coming 
autumn.” The fingers seemed clutching at something that 
must have pressed upon his heart. Music again — ^brilliant, 
tlirilling ; through the mazes of the Lancers he passed as 
though trampling some imaginary substance underneath 
his feet ; yet his manner was so proudly calm and cour- 
teous none would have guessed how in his heart there 
was an inner tempest raging. 

The quadrille ended, Warren led me to a seat ; then, in 
a voice which betrayed no excitement whatever, he spoke 
very indifierently, I thought heartlessly, of the persons 
about us. New York as a residence, and many other things 
which were far from our thoughts or feelings then, only he 
twitched my sandalwood fan nervously. I glanced at my 
watch — the evening was well-nigh spent. I went in search 
of Eaymond, who sat with his bride in the drawing-room, 
listening to the recital of some old friend who sat in an 
easy chair, his face towards their sofa, his back towards 
the door. Judge of my surprise on coming over to them 
at being brought tHe-a-tHe with Mr. Milverton, our mirth- 


160 


THE MONTANAS. 


ful spirit of Nahant, Stanley’s friend, our joint admirer > 
He sprang up with sudden alacrity, seizing my hand, asked 
a dozen questions in the same breath concerning my health 
and happiness; again of Stanley, whom he knew, and of 
her family, whom he did not, saving Raymond, Clyde, and 
myself. Said he had nothing earthly to do, at once pro- 
posed to accompany me home, a suggestion to which I 
readily assented, though I told him I feared he would find 
it very dull, the family were at Brightland ; I should go 
there on my return ; his sojourn with us would be quite a 
contrast to his life here in the great caravansary. 

He answered me that nothing would delight him more ; 
he was tired of this locality, and deemed a change of cli- 
mate, even at that season, a saving ordinance from death of 
ennui, 

“ I am sure I shall revive the very instant I come within 
the sphere of Miss Montana’s presence. She has more 
than once saved me from premature death by one of those 
dazzling smiles of hers. You used to feel the force of 
them, eh, Hayne ? By St. Patrick, I once thought all the 
powers of earth could not have dispelled the illusion which 
bound you a willing captive to her side. How is it, old 
fellow ? Confess now, or I shall deem you already in the 
leading-strings — afraid to own a former capture. How is 
it, ha?” 

Warren had followed me and taken his place amid our 
group in the drawing-room. Thus appealed to, he as- 
sumed a tone of careless badinage in his answer. 

“No one is more willing than I to acknowledge Miss 
Montana’s superior fascinations, though I cannot agree 
with you in pronouncing her smiles a ‘ saving ordinance.’ 
I have reason to think they are calculated to blight rather 
than exalt mankind,'''^ The blood rushed over my face at 


THE MONTANAS. 


161 


the conclusion of his unjust speech. Raymond’s eyes 
flashed indignant Are ! A gentle hand was laid upon his 
arm — the defiant spirit was rebuked. I should have spo- 
ken to Warren when he offered me his arm a moment 
after, but in his face there was the same reproachful look 
of fixed sternness that had hushed my clamoring heart 
more than once before ; now his hand tightly clasped my 
fingers as we promenaded the drawing-room. He said at 
length : 

“You think me harsh and severe, Jennie; I know wo- 
men have an idea there are some things which men should 
bear without a sign or sigh of complaint. I have borne a 
great deal, but you have tried me to-night almost beyond 
endurance. You and Stanley play good hands at your 
double game ! She won my love only to cast it aside as a 
worthless bauble. Not content with this, she has com- 
missioned you, who are doubtless party to the transaction, 
to probe the wound and decide if it is deep enough to 
prove fatal. Yes, I feel assured this has been your chief 
mission to New York. You may say to your fair instruc- 
tress, it does not abash me to admit that the wound is sore 
and bleeding still. I should not hesitate to tell her this if 
she had come. The thing which I most regret is that I 
did not do so in the beginning. I should have heard my 
sentence from her lips alone ; instead, I listened to the 
voice of pride, donned this armor of reserve and indifference, 
hoping by such means to conceal from the world and from 
her what she had made me suffer.” 

I opened my eyes wide with astonishment ! I actually 
for the moment thought Warren demented to talk as he 
did about the wounds that she had made. Then I remem- 
bered how, in that one letter to Stanley, he had accused her 
of deceiving him, and of having broken her plighted faith. 


162 


THE MONTANAS. 


We liad deemed his words only a subterfuge to free him^ 
self from an engagement which proved less advantageous 
in a worldly sense than it might once have done. Again, 
Mr. Kingswell had said Warren told him Stanley’s written 
words were his proof of her falsity to him. A suspicion 
of foul play came over me like a flash ! though I knew not 
what I should say or do to detect it without compromising 
Stanley by the admission of her unchanged affection for 
Warren. 

Cousin,” I said excitedly, “ I am just now too intent 
on a purpose even to resent your insinuations concerning 
Stanley and myself — in league against you. There must 
be treachery somewhere. I think it will eventually be 
explained to our mutual satisfaction. To aid me in ferret- 
ing out the apparent cruel designs of some person or per- 
sons, I request you to send back her letters ! ” 

“ Her letters f ” he answered half contemptuously, pro- 
found surprise manifest in his tones and manner. — “For 
four long months after I left Claremont I heard no 
word from her ! At length, in answer to at least twenty 
wild appeals, there came from her just one curt brief mis- 
sive, stating her engagement, requesting very coldly that I 
should discontinue my portion of the correspondence. In 
a fit of rage and pique at her duplicity, I resolved that to 
her, of all the anguish I felt, I would make no sign. In 

the silence thus imposed, I became ah ! well you know 

the rest. I see by your face you deemed her incapable of 
this. Once I should sooner have doubted all the world be- 
side. She has since made me a sceptic regarding woman’s 
truth. I congratulate Mr. Ingram upon the success of his 
suit ; he is to be envied, is he not ? ” 

• “Warren,” I exclaimed with some severity, “repeat 
your innuendoes either to Eaymond or Clyde, at fitting time 


THE MONTANAS, 


163 


and place. I will assure you they will he responded to as 
they deserve to be. I shall not resent them, as I said 
before, because you have indeed been tried more than I 
had dreamed of. Now give me that note of Stanley’s ; I 
would have the evidence of my own eyes here. ’Tis not 
that I doubt you, but I have so believed in her I could 
trust nothing less than this.” 

O 

He rose and offered me his arm with stately grace. I 
believe Warren could have been placed under no circum- 
stances so complicated or disagreeable that he could have 
forgotten to deport himself with lofty elegance; though 
now the fingers which closed over mine, resting in the cir- 
cle of his arm, were cold and rigid. He drew me into his 
private study adjoining the library, where he seated me in 
his large reading chair, during the process of unlocking a 
secret drawer in an escritoire, from which he took a note 
bearing Stanley’s superscription and stamp. I knew her 
letters; it was easy to detect her style, which was uniform; 
I imagined I could be deceived as readily with regard to 
my own. The strangest of all was her chirography ! I 
could have qualified it as hers, in a coui*t of justice. 
It would have been difficult to counterfeit her peculiar 
hand. 

My brain was reeling under the force of this blow. I 
was only conscious that Warren’s eyes were upon me. I 
rallied, therefore, under his tones of cutting irony. 

“ I presume you are satisfied ! at least you can doubt 
no longer the authenticity of letter or date.” A bitter 
reply rose to my lips ! I longed to tell him that I had 
doubts, but not of her ; that I should not believe the whole 
world if they in one united voice declared Stanley false. 
But no, it were better not. I had no right to reveal one 
tithe of that long, hard struggle through which she had 


164 


THE MONTANAS. 


passed. Accordingly I crushed back, in a deep, dark 
corner of my heart, my suspicions and convictions con- 
cerning a part some third party must have played in this 
drama. I answered him falteringly — 

“ The evidence is certainly against her ; until I am bet- 
ter fortified with strength to refute your charges, I shall not 
attempt her defence. Do not think of her too harshly, War- 
ren ; remember those golden days at Claremont ; I am sure 
she has not forgotten them, they were so very bright.” 
He sat with his eyes fixed upon the superscription of her 
note ; mine wandered far ofiT. Shreds of my golden river 
came through the fissures of craggy rocks that loomed up, 
almost shutting out the heavens from view. I saw the 
opal drops sparkling crimson, as ruby — then diamond clear, 
breaking into gem-like beauty through the tissues of broken 
dreams. Warren’s head rested on his left hand, while his 
right, within the breast of his coat, seemed clutching at 
some weight that was pressing on his heart. 

We were each awakened from our painful reverie by the 
sound of an unwelcome voice which broke upon us very 
harshly, with a vivacity that was anything but pleasing. 
We raised our eyes to see — a blonde face, transfixed in green- 
hued wonder and indignation. 

“ I am astonished to find you here^ Miss Montana ! 
Your brother has been seeking for you everywhere else. 
Mr. Hayne, you must have forgotten your duty and obligar 
tion as host in my house. You have chosen to absent 
yourself during the entire evening — almost. Now many of 
our departing guests await* the opportunity and privilege 
of paying their respects to you. Will you come, sir, or 
shall I excuse you on the ground of this monopoly ? ” 

She said this with a withering glance in my direction. 
It did not reach me, however ; I was thinking of other 


THE MONTANAS. 


165 


tilings than her reproach, as I recalled and reviewed the 
wide, wide space that lay between those two — a difference 
iincancelled by pride of position ! a difference which was 
God-created ; neither years nor fate could abridge it, even 
though they were husband and wife. He felt it, too, just 
then, very keenly ; I saw how the knowledge galled him 
I hoped he would not resent her insult to me. I cared no- 
thing at all about it — but he did. 

‘‘ Perhaps, madam, you, who in your own house never lack 
courtesy towards any one of your guests — even those who are 
my relatives — might as well have extended your preroga- 
tive and denied your guests the privilege of dispensing 
adieus to their nominal host. You can do so still if you 
like ; at all events, suffer them to await my pleasure.” 
She rustled her indignant flounces as she left us. Warren 
again gave me his arm. I thought, oh ! for one tiny ray 
of the sweet love life he and Stanley had lived to lighten 
the dark domestic atmosphere within this stately home. 
Oh ! for just one atom of pure gold amid all the dross sur- 
rounding my cousin ! Where should it be found ? A voice 
within answered, far down in the deeps of that true, manly 
heart, whose strings were held by one little hand which he 
would never be permitted to press or fondle again. How 
trustingly it had once nestled within his own ! I wonder 
if he was not thinking of it when those coarse, harsh 
tones broke upon his ear? If so, the recollection had 
melted somewhat the resentment within him ; for as he 
spoke the fltting farewell to each departing guest, his tones 
were lower, richer, and seemed far off, like the sound of 
my golden waves. When we three took our leave, I saw 
upon his face the same absent expression, and he pressed 
my hand as though it might have been hers. We left him 
standing silently, moodily, on the pavement, within the 


166 


THE MONTANAS. 


shadow of his wife’s stately mansion, his form so still in its 
faultless outline. I was thinking of him as we went whirl- 
ing through the lighted streets, until our coachman let down 
the carriage steps at the Metropolitan. 


0 

CHAPTER XI. 

“ The highest hills are miles below the sky — 

And so far is the lightest heart below 
True happiness.” 

I WAS out when Warren called on the following morning ; 
in the evening he came again, and while I was adding the 
finishing touch to my toilet, I could hear him as he walked 
the long corridor below with calm, firm tread, just as he 
was wont to do in the pleasant summer time gone by. 
Now he was gayer than I had seen him for a long time. 
There was in his manner no trace of the deep emotion 
manifest on former occasions. It was only the polished 
man of the world who greeted me, speaking with careless 
indifterence, as though he would ignore the fact that he had 
ever been other than this. I was surprised and wounded 
at his levity, and thus expressed myself ; I shall never for- 
get his answer : 

‘‘ Fortunately, or unfortunately, as you perhaps esteem 
the fact, we men have too much to do of life’s busy work — 
too constant a strife with the world and its strong necessi- 
ties, to permit ourselves to grow habitually depressed. In 
the long, weary march from cradle to grave there are so 
many customs that not only wither the sweetest flowers 
but set an iron heel upon any impulse of generous emotion. 


THE MONTANAS. 


167 


That stern dictator, duty, would make galley slaves of us 
all — even the most determinedly rebellious ; reducing kings 
to the condition of serfs and minions. A tiny hand holds 
the feather that turns the scale of destiny ; and from a sweet, 
sunlit way, where the brightest flowers lie, ’tis often but one 
step to deserts of darkness and misery. We mourn the 
departed glory, but soon learn to trim our torches and 
smile while we do the work of life in an artiflcial radiance — 
enduring calmly, hopefully, philosophically, all that we 
must. We cannot always suffer — the time so to do is not 
given us. I like Owen Meredith’s deflnition of life : 

“ ‘ Honest love — honest sorrow, 

Honest work for the day, 

Honest hope for the morrow.’ 

“ I really like this aspect of the thing ; there is a bravery 
in it which but few people realize. As regards the sorrow, 
that is an attribute that is real and wears no false hue, 
though as regards honest love — ah ! there is little of that in 
this weary world.” 

It almost broke my heart to hear Cousin Warren talk in 
this strain. Oh ! how I longed to look him in the eyes — 
to flx his conviction of what I uttered, and tell him there 
was at least one honest love in the Universe, stedfast and 
true as the sun, and how that loving one had sorrowed for 
this broken troth, as even he had not done — but I dared 
not. Oh, of all the idle words spoken, if I might have 
claimed just one little syllable with which to convey an 
intelligence of these things, it might have appeased the 
anguish in my heart — but it must not be! Loving as 
they two did, each knowing that the other loved, perhaps 
the frail barrier had melted away ; then they, standing face 
to face, man and woman, might have spoken as they did at 


168 


THE MONTANAS. 


Nahant. Could they have borne the heavy cross being 
aware of this most harrowing truth ? I fear not. 

As these thoughts flitted through my mind I sat care- 
lessly toying with a little fillet of white and blue, a purchase 
I had made for Stanley. Warren regarded me so earnestly, 
I could not but feel that his tone and manner in the pre- 
vious conversation were assumed. 

“ That is hers,” he said at length. I looked at him with 
some surprise, answering in the aflirmative. Then he went 
on to say : 

“There is a peculiar atmosphere about everything that 
pertains to her. Even the most commonplace articles 
adapt themselves to her wearing, assuming this peculiar 
personality the moment they are purchased. I have a 
little gift here ; it is justly her property, no one else could 
ever wear them. Will you give them, for me, into her 
charge ? ” It was a set of pearls : a necklace whose inter- 
stices seemed a glitter of frost-work, brooch and pendants 
of rarest style and finish. I took the shining bauble into 
my hand, letting the string slip through my fingers like 
cluster drops of falling water, saying as I did so : 

“ Warren, you very well know that, even under other cir- 
cumstances, Stanley would scarcely accept these ; now, she 
would be very far from doing so.” 

“I can see the drift of your fancy, Jennie,” he answered 
quietly, though proudly, in a subdued tone of poignant suf- 
fering. “ They are not my wife’s, and can never be hers ; 
they are no part of that contract, thank Heaven — they are 
Stanley’s. All the romance and brightness of my life are 
entwined with them, and they must be hers, though she 
has put from her the beautiful dream and sweet thoughts 
that were mine, as I worked for them. But she cannot go 
back into the golden maze of the past, and blot out the time 


THE MONTANAS. 


169 


when she herself gave me the liberty to think these thoughts 
of her, and to build the hope of my life upon them. Better 
try to obliterate the suns that are shining on our childhood, 
and the stars in the past whose radiance never pales in 
growing spaces of after years.” 

“Warren, would you substitute these for the wreath you 
wove and left to wither in her own home ? They will be 
valueless to her now — that has faded.” 

“ Then lay them at her feet and let her crush them as 
she crushed the joy out of my life ; only bear them to her, 
with a request from me that she will wear them on her 
bridal day. In return I ask of you that little band of white 
and blue. I want it ; it will help me to learn to forgive 
her. I feel that I have almost done so already.” 

“ Warren, you do right to forgive Stanley. Try to think 
of her gently and kindly, for she too has suffered. Just 
think what a dreadful thing it is to be surrounded bj^ an 
invisible net of circumstances whose meshes could not be 
broken ; it was fate ! Stanley was not to blame ! She will 
live to prove it to you.” 

“ Jennie, why will you taunt me with these things ? I 
knew the ‘ circumstances* which influenced her to renounce 
me as she did. I, though not a poor man, was not a mil- 
lionaire ! Clyde Ingram was. Of course, I do not blame 
her ; the difference was vastly in his favor ; it is the way 
of the world. Jennie, we must all learn it sooner or later. 
There is no bitterness in my heart towards her ; only a poig- 
nant sorrow when I recall all that was and is not, and all 
that might have been. But enough of this ; it sounds too 
much like weak repining at a decree that is inevitable ; 
the mandate is irrevocable, the flat has gone forth. I shall 
learn to be happy in the knowledge that she is blessed. 
And now this is our last conference on this topic. To man, 

8 


170 


THE MONTANAS. 


woman or child, saving yourself, I have never spoken these 
thoughts ; and never again will I lay this portion of my 
life hare to any one. It was too bright and beautiful for 
the actual ; it has drifted into dream-land, there let it rest. 
Suffice it to say, there is one word which I shall never take 
upon my lips again — the word love. It is among the sounds 
that are dead ! Shut in a chamber of my heart that is 
locked hard ; the key is in your possession ; the walls are 
granite ; at the touch of one little hand they would crum- 
ble into dust ; but that touch will never come, and I must 
cease to miss and mourn it now ; the season has gone by.” 

I stood gazing at him, with a deep pity in my heart, as he 
looked down towards the youth-land of romance as to a 
land of promise past. 

He went to his stately, beautiful home, and we to the 
quiet shades at Ridgeley. It was so pleasant to feel our- 
selves in this quiet little home-nest once more. To rise at 
morning with the lark, to see the glorious light breaking 
into prisms far over the New Hampshire hills, and the mist 
in the valley gather into purple columns that shone bur- 
nished with long bars of sunshine which came down through 
the trees that grew upon the mountain-side, darting golden 
spars into the very heart of morning to a mellow music that 
seemed a refrain of wood-nymphs. Then followed a day, a 
busy day, full of life and work ; the mellow grain fell be- 
fore adroit sickles, and the harvest-season, with its rich, ripe 
melody, went gliding by ; the task had been wrought — the 
reprisal garnered. 

It was amusing during that period to see Milverton in a 
broad-brimmed hat of oat straw, gathering golden sheaves, 
humming fragments of bacchanalian songs — such as wreath 
the bowl, (fee. — carrying his air of graceful nonchalance even 
into the harvest-field. He seemed always happy, living for 


THE MONTANAS. 


171 


the most part a surface life of pleasure, yet occasionally 
plunging into a vortex with a hearty will, as though this 
were all — this little narrow to-day, and there was no to-nior- 
row, no eternity. I could not avoid laughing at his drol- 
leries, though he always inspired me with a sensation as 
though I was falling from great heights. 

Tfie last evening, the one previous to our departure, 
came. Kay and Mary were comfortably ensconced in their 
new home. Mrs. Kingswell had dispensed the means that 
was the young wife’s bridal gift with unusual tact and de- 
licacy, and furnished their house to the very best advantage. 
It was a second edition to the home at Kidgley — a minia- 
ture edition, relieved with a few of the rich tapestries and 
brocatelles of Claremont ; altogether as snug and elegant 
a nest of love as could be found in the country. 

We were spending the last evening together — sitting, as 
we had often done before, on the broad piazza, in the light 
and smile of the young moon. True, there were missing 
ones to whose absence I was growing sadly accustomed 
of late. I spoke at length, and my words bore the burden of 
an inquiry made at many partings, yet never answered with 
the least certainty ; for in that bright to-morrow of our 
thought may lie the event that may make or mar the rem- 
nant of existence. Impressed with this mournful truth, I 
said again : 

“ Uncle, life is a sad, hard thing, is it not?” 

Young people on first becoming acquainted with the 
actual facts of existence are ready to vote it so. I wonder, 
however, how many persons of your age could be brought 
to endorse your sweeping invective ?” 

“ I know not what would be their verdict, uncle ; but it 
seems to me, on tfie verge of constant parting with some 
one whom I love — a fever of fierce heat — an aimless 


172 mu JfO^TAJVAS. . 

warfare of 'body and soul ! — a swift, sure death, and 
then ” 

Ah ! Jennie, what then ? Ask of faith what lies beyond 
this narrow stream of time — beyond the golden portals that 
bar eternity from view. Ask of that divine heart which 
poured its life-blood out, that upon the mortal tides we 
might be borne from the mazy darks of earth in the light 
of his great sacrifice, beyond the night of swift, sure death, 
to a morning of the Infinite. His love means more and is 
more than the material compensations which await the per- 
formance of our daily task. God is in our lives everywhere, 
my child; he will take us to his great heart when the 
labor and strife are ended. He will be with you when the 
sun goes down, as he was when you came into the world. 
Do not grow weary ; live long in the days of your romance, 
drink often of those fresh, pure springs. Life is a circle ! Age 
comes back at last to bathe its dusky, time-worn visage in 
the primitive fountain, and when the race is ended reenters 
by the same portal through which it first emerged. Keep 
a spirit untainted by weak repinings, and you will not 
have far to come when the fiesh has grown weary and 
weak, for the crown of righteousness Christ has promised.” 

“ Uncle, you make me feel strong to try, and I will.” 

“ That is a brave, good girl, Jennie ; the greater your 
effort, the more glorious will be your triumph in the end. 
Kemember, ‘ the race to the swift or the battle to the strong ’ 
is not given. But to him that overcometh.” How lofty 
shone that glorious spirit from his eyes, as he sat there, 
moonbeams falling on his silver hair ! Ah ! with a per- 
petual well-spring of youth in his loving, generous heart, he 
had conquered life and held its tissues in his venerable 
hand. How strong his words of encouragement always 
^ made me feel — equal to anything ; so I returned home with 


THE MONTANAS. 


173 


a silent suffering deep in my heart, through which ran a 
wish to comfort Stanley and to school myself with looking 
on her happiness, thus assuming the heavy cross and sacri- 
fice that must be mine. 

The family, including all the servants save Aunt Dinah, 
who always kept house in our absence, were at Brightland. 
The old lady, with her ever ready comfort in the shape of 
a bountiful meal, entertained us very pleasantly, Milverton 
and myself, as she did the honors. How delightful we find 
the little details of home gossip to one returned from long 
journeying. We enjoyed catechizing Aunt Dinah, espe- 
cially Milverton ; who, between alternate slices of cold ham 
and lemon tartlets, asked many questions concerning Stan- 
ley, who someway constituted his whole conception of our 
family. ^ 

Once or twice the old lady essayed to adopt our policy, 
and venture a query concerning “ Mars Raymond ; ” though 
this was done with the air of one who feared the answer 
might contain intelligence that would strike her dumb. 

“ Well and happy, is he ? Lord save us ! Who ever 
thought, when I was a raisin’ dat are bressed boy, it would 
come to dis. Just think,” she added, wiping from her eyes 
the ever ready tear-drops, “ of his being happy away from 
old Mars, his dear mother. Miss Stanley, and the rest of us ; 
it’s too hard to bear. Miss Algy.” 

“ It is the way' of life, you know. Aunt Dinah ; sons must 
go out from their father’s home, take their places in the 
great world, and bear their part of active duty there.” 

Yes ; but jest think o’ him, tenderly as he’d ben raised, 
goin’ way up thar to live whar people has to work fur the’ 
livin’. Why didn’t he marry that purty young creetur. 
Miss Retty, and settle in town.” 

A shiver ran through my frame as I thought of Retta 


174 


THE MONTANAS. 


Austin in Mary’s place — Eaymond’s wife. The hasty com- 
parison, while doing no credit to the former, did much 
honor to the latter. 

“I presumfe Kay can best answer that question. Aunt 
Dinah ; and as to his working for a living, we all do that in 
one sphere or another, unless we are fortunate^ as Mr. Mil- 
verton, and have a patrimony handed down to us with no 
thought or care, but to spend it pleasantly to the best ad- 
vantage. In that case, one must needs be of a tempera- 
ment that will exempt us from the endurance of those hard 
spirit-toils for others that accrue in bearing burdens for 
those we love.” 

Well, God knows best — Christ bore one for us all,” an- 
swered this faithful old bond-woman, solemnly. 

Later in the afternoon, we drove down to the city. Ac- 
companied by Uncle Montana, we took the train for Bright- 
land. Horses and carriage awaited us at the station ; after 
a swift drive of a few minutes only, we came to a planta- 
tion, extended for miles, bordering one of the famous 
swamps so noted in the annals of Mrs. Stowe. Surround- 
ed by thick clumps of pine-trees, stood the white wooden 
house with long galleries circling around and dissecting the 
abode at right angles. In front, a long slope of yard with 
groups of woolly-headed children, playing; this was our 
home, or rather, Clyde’s home. Here, many pleasant days 
of my childhood had been passed. With a great bound 
my heart went back to that old time. How natural it 
seemed that Clyde, who was sole master here, should come 
down the clay road to meet us, arrayed in an immaculate 
suit of snowy linen. The breeze strayed lovingly through 
his\[)rown curls as he lifted gracefully his broad-brimmed 
Panama in answer to my salutation ; then came forward to 
shake Milford’s hand in the true Southern greeting. How 


THE MONTANAS. 


175 


my heart thrilled again when, stepping in front of his guest, 
he offered me his arm, leaving Milverton to follow. Pleas- 
ure beamed from every lineament of his pure Grecian face 
as he exclaimed : 

“I am so glad you are home again, Jennie ; you can 
never know how we have missed you.” 

I answered, vainly endeavoring to still my heart with a 
gasp: 

“ Many thanks, Clyde ; it is kind of you to say so ; I 
think Stanley must have wanted me ; you would have been 
cruel not to have sympathized with her. I imagine it was 
nothing more than this — your desire to see me.” I could 
not tell why it was — the radiance passed from his face, and 
again, then and there, between us, was inaugurated that 
cruel silence which so blighted both our lives. I saw the 
change instantly, and as usual attributed it to a source 
entirely foreign to the real cause. I was always wounding 
Clyde without meaning to do so. This time I thought to 
bring back the glad smile, so I said: “How are Stanley, 
aunt, and the rest ? ” 

“ They are much as you left them, thank you,” he an- 
swered, in a hurt, chilled tone. 

I, too, was grieved ; I withdrew my eyes from the sorry 
face that I loved, to behold coming down the path an appa- 
rition which I felt to be Stanley ; though I had never seen 
her when every ray of her glorious beauty seemed so con- 
centrated. It burst upon me with such force ; the cold, 
stony look had passed from her eyes ; golden arrows 
danced and glittered in her sunny hair. I was in her 
arms — close to her fond, true heart, in an instant. We 
maintained long that firm clasp, leaving Milverton to him- 
self, who proceeded to make the acquaintance of every 
dog and negro on the premises. Clyde stood looking over 


17G 


THE MONTANAS, 


those long, far fields with a dreamy, absent look upon his face 
with which at Claremont he had been accustomed to watch 
the waves roll in fpm a distant sea. Oh ! it was so sweet 
to have Stanley to myself again. Now that she was in her 
old place, close to my well tried heart, I felt how much I 
had really missed her all along. I was strangely happy 
that evening as I knelt by Aunt Edith’s bedside, and wept 
that I was home again. Miss Phoebe, too, I think, was 
really glad to have me back ; she actually laid aside her 
knitting-work, seated me in a large chair, bathed my face, 
and combed my hair, while I told them about Eay and 
Mary ; the wedding festivities, etc. ; and how happy they 
were in their new home. 

I unguardedly chanced to speak of the Hayne enter- 
tainment; I saw that Stanley drew her breath in quick 
gasps, as though a stone lay heavy on her heart. I endea- 
vored to change the current of her thoughts by referring 
to the visible improvement in her mother’s health; but 
she said no word. With a regular motion the comb passed 
through my hair ; then Miss Phoebe answered : ‘‘ Mrs. Mon- 
tana is always better at Brightland ; the atmosphere seems 
to invigorate her.” I soon learned the cause of Stanley’s 
silence, when her mother’s health was alluded to ; this im- 
provement was the purchase of her sacrifice ; yet for the 
most part she was cheerful, and even assisted in the prepa- 
rations for the marriage with the greatest alacrity. 

Now came a message from the gentlemen that we should 
join them, which we did on the grass plat ’neath the 
arches of tall, dark cedars. Then we had a long, cheerful 
chat about old times, during which Clyde gave utterance 
to some caustic and witty things. As for Milverton, he 
always made it a point to say the greatest number of droll 
and humorous things. On this occasion he acquitted him* 


THE MONTANAS. 


Ill 


self with unusual honor. Thus we sat after tea until chill 
dews gathered from the swamps, and the notes of the 
whippoorwill came in like a requiem. I saw shadows on 
Stanley’s beautiful eyes ere we separated for the night, 
while in Clyde’s manner there was that moody gloom 
which always cut me to the soul ! Often, in our horseback 
excursions adown the shadowy road bordering the swamp, 
he would ride by my side maintaining a silence so audible 
I could hear the beating of his heart. Then, as by some 
sudden inspiration, his soul would melt and come into his 
eyes — hang dazzling there for one brief instant, then sink 
back like the fall of some sweet song. Oh, if I had only 
dared to meet that glance which always wandered from 
my face out into the dim far space ; perhaps even now the 
shadow on my remnant of life had not lain half so darkly 
or so inexorably. 

Swiftly the summer days went by until the last were 
gone — we lingered; ere the autumn rains set in heav}^ 
and chill we took Aunt Edith back to Claremont ; only 
Clyde remained until the cotton was gathered in and he 
saw his people comfortably settled in their winter quarters ; 
then Brightland was closed for the season. 

It was pleasant to have Clyde with us again ; he read to 
us in the evenings ; then he and Milverton arranged some ’ 
private theatricals for our special benefit, in which we took 
the greatest delight. On one occasion Milverton inveigled 
that staid, sedate Miss Phoebe to accompany us to the 
opera ; then absolutely gloated over his triumph for a week 
to come. Clyde usually spent the day in the city. Mil- 
verton often accompanied him, though he returned to 
luncheon, after which he lounged in the south parlor, 
thrumming the piano or singing an amusing treble with 
the harp, to the utter disgust of Aunt Dinah and the total 

8 * 


178 


THE MONTANAS. 


demolition of what little dignity Hawsey had succeeded in 
collecting during the short respite between pieces. 

He absolutely succeeded in so far corrupting that young 
hand-maiden’s morals that she accepted a bribe to furnish 
him the key to an apartment where old-fashioned dresses 
and bonnets were hung in state. Then actually assisted 
him while he proceeded to array his somewhat pursy propor- 
tions in sundry antique habiliments. In this guise he made 
his appearance at the door of Aunt Edith’s sitting-room, 
where he stood for an instant endeavoring to look Cleopatra ; 
failing signally, he gathered up his skirts with dainty fin- 
gers, and bowed himself out, leaving us convulsed with 
laughter. We were very sorry when Milverton returned to 
the North, I imagined because he did not wish to see 
Stanley married. 

There were many things to do now ; Stanley and I 
usually spent our forenoons shopping for the mantua- 
makers ; we returned at noon much wearied. Once we 
were displaying our purchases for the inspection of Aunt 
Edith and Miss Phoebe ; Clyde came in and stood looking 
upon the heaps of gossamer and laces with a stern fate in 
his indifferent face, which, with all my bravery heretofore, 
I could not bear to look upon. I cast down the baubles, 
going abruptly to my own apartment, , whither Stanley came 
to seek me, as I had often done her when she left us to 
struggle all alone. 

“ I am sick and tired,” I said, in answer to her questions ; 
“ very sick and tired, that is all.” Oh ! if I had only 
known what those few impatient words would bring forth 
I should have died sooner than to have spoken them. The 
color left her face, white as death — wildly rushing like a 
torrent long pent up, came her words ; I could only shud- 
der and be still. 


THE MONTANAS, 


179 


“Yes, Jennie, I know you are tired of all this mockery. 
I am so, too. I should wonder if we were not. I intend 
this day and hour to put a stop to it. I do not love Clyde 
Ingram ; he does not love me. What will be this marriage 
but a bargain and sale, which I am resolved must not, shall 
not go on. If the cards had gone out, I should recall them. 
I have chosen my course. I would rather be Clyde’s slave 
than do a noble man the injustice to become his wife with 
this lie upon my soul. No ; as the days go on which bring 
us nearer to fhe consummation of this fraud, I feel more 
and more the violence I should do to him and myself if I 
failed to retract this promise ; therefore, I shall do so at 
any risk.” It was useless to expostulate ; I knew the feel- 
ing in her heart, for had I not beheld just such a look of soul- 
weariness in Warren Hayne’s eyes when he took one of the 
little hands that were clenched hard together now and led 
her from the gay throng to the stillness without. As then, 
I heard the sighing sea, and it seemed to calm us both. 
After a long time I ventured to say, in defiance of my re- 
bellious heart : 

“ Stanley, it will kill Aunt Edith to have this cherished 
project of life fail her at the last.” 

“ No, no ; you misjudge her. When she knows how I 
shrink from the fulfilment of this vow, she will say that I 
am right. I will go to her on my knees, and tell her all. 
She will forgive me — but ” 

“ But Clyde ? ” I rejoined, hoarsely. 

“ Ah ! dear, noble Clyde, if I was sure he was quite 
happy, the sacrifice of my own feelings I would esteem 
very lightly ; but he is not — he is wretched. It will be a 
relief to him to have this bond severed — it has long been 
irksome.” 

I know not how it was, but Stanley made her peace with 


180 


THE MONTANAS. 


them all ; and she and Clyde, in their changed relation, 
took their accustomed places at the tea-table that evening 
as though things had always been just as they were then. 
I afterwards learned from Miss Phoebe that Stanley had 
declared, in presence of her father, her willingness to sell 
herself, if needs be, for a stranger’s gold, but never to Clyde 
Ingram, whom §he loved as her brother. Clyde took his 
departure for Texas on the following morning. He sent 
back by his driver, from the city, a note to Uncle Montana, 
consigning Claremont to his charge. ’Twas thus it ended, 
ere the snow and the winter came again to Claremont. At 
breakfast there was only his vacant place. In our home 
and hearts, for many days and months, there was utter 
loneliness, for we missed him very sadly. 

0 

CHAPTER XII. 

“ The atmosphere of home 1 how bright 

It floats around us when we sit together, 

Under a bower of vine in summer weather, 

Or round a hearth-stone on a winter’s night.” 

Paek Benjamin. 

Aunt Edith was feeling better as the spring advanced. 
Affairs at Claremont settled back into their accustomed 
routine, though from our home-circle we missed Clyde and 
Raymond — oh ! how much. It seemed so strange, so sad, 
to have, besides our own, only uncle’s face at table ; then in 
our evening reunions we were so lonely that we welcomed 
even Lane Austin pleasurably. He became our constant 
escort on all occasions, and was, in truth, the very heau-ideal 
of chivalry. 


THE MONTANAS. 


181 


Thus winter wore away. There was much visiting in 
private circles in the great Southern metropolis ; inter- 
spersed with the usual amount of heartiness and heartless- 
ness in the society of New Orleans. Then there was the 
same cold grey look on the distant sea as its waves came 
rolling in with groan and sigh ; the same pulseless trance 
of nature ; the same bird-singing, grass-growing awakening 
from the spell ere spring in all her gladness burst upon us. 
Miss Phoebe’s counterpane was laid aside, while her busy 
hands trained vines in the arbor and summer-house, where 
the boys went to smoke when at home. Beneath her 
touch, with the assistance of Hawsey, the flower-beds 
brightened, blushed, and grew fragrant. 

. Claremont wore its loveliest hues when we began to think 
and talk of accepting Kaymond’s invitation to go North for 
the summer. We could not go to Brightland for the sum- 
mer. On account of his business, uncle could not accom 
pany us. Clyde, who usually spent his summers with us 
on the plantation, was absent — we knew not for how long. 
There remained for us no alternative ; so bringing all our 
eloquence to bear on Aunt Edith, for the purpose of induc- 
ing her to go with us, we decided to spend the summer at 
the North. I was sure a change of scene would beneflt 
her, and it proved that my surmises were correct. 

Stanley was passive ; as for myself, I was anxious for 
anything that would in the least degree ease the quick, 
sharp anguish that always rang through my heart, when in 
fancy I canvassed the long life of loneliness outspread be- 
fore me. True it is, as the Scotch divine has so touchingly 
said : “We can bear one day’s burden at a time, but the 
weight of an hundred days together would crush the 
strongest.” 

Lane Austin proposed to be our escort, and, in the ab- 


]82 


THE MONTANAS, 


sence of our brother or Clyde Ingrain, we accepted his 
kindness gratefully. The music of April, the flowers of 
May, the first rosy breath of June, were gathered into the 
category of nature’s past treasures — into an echoless world 
of solemn silences — ere we took our departures. Then 
came long days of travel ! The shrill voice that announced 
the leagues by which we measured distances between ex- 
treme sections, and each little detail — some pleasurable, 
others wearisome — by which we were made to realize this 
fact, were gathered into the record of experiences past and 
gone, like those sunbright days, to return no more. 

A year had gone by ; a lightsome, flower-garnished year 
of calm, serene joy to Eaymond and Mary in their new 
home; a year of heart changes, soul-weariness, of vacant 
spaces, and unspoken pain to us at Claremont. We came 
into the new atmosphere gratefully, reverently. A gleam 
of the flrst morning joyousness came back to Stanley’s 
face — so grave and quiet, save at sunny intervals, since that 
other summer time was ended — as she knelt beside the lit- 
tle crib and took the tiny velvet hand of her brother’s flrst- 
born into her own ; a baby girl — our sweet bird of immor- 
tality ; she seemed lying there winking diamond eyes of 
blue as Stanley twirled sunbeams of golden hair that were 
half shadow in the shrouded room, upon the white brow 
which she kissed oftener than the cherry lips ; it reminded 
her of another brow — ^but of this she did not speak. 

Aunt Edith voluntarily established herself by this little 
crib — on duty at its post. It was strange, the interest and 
delight she took in her little grandchild. With more devo- 
tion even than was her wont, she prayed God that she 
might be permitted to see this little one grow strong to 
walk the hard earth way, ere she, frail as infancy, shoul d be 
called to walk the ways beyond. 


THE MONTANAS. 


183 


“ What do you call her, Ray ? ” I asked, kissing the hem 
of her snowy robes, which was the most I could do, for I 
felt the holy presence of angels hovering about that child. 

“We have not yet decided, Jennie ; I wish you would as- 
sist us in finding a suitable cognomen for our little queen ” — 
here the young father stooped and kissed his daughter’s 
lips with dignity so tempered by love that was infinite, my 
heart bowed low down. Was this our Ray, so reckless, so 
rollicksome of yore ? Years of feeling with their purifying 
tides seemed to have passed over, leaving him an earnest 
man, reverent and God-fearing. 

“ Call her Stanley,” suggested the calm-faced mother. 

We all acquiesced save her who was most specially inter- 
ested. I was a little surprised at seeing Stanley turn her 
face towards Mary with the old white, stony look of an- 
guish upon its fairness, as she answered in tones hoarse 
with suffering, crashed down by the burden of her life’s 
one regret : 

“ Oh ! no ; not that name, please, it would almost crush 
the little thing ; it is a sorrowful name to bear.” Then, 
more gently, she added : 

“ I have a name in view ; it is odd, and very sweet ; I 
am sure you will like it, Mary — an artistic combination of 
two names, those of your friend and husband, Aljean and 
Raymond — Ala Ray.” 

It was beautiful, so we all thought ; even Ray, who drew 
his sister to his heart, and in one long, tender embrace, his 
consent and gratitude were expressed. Thus was our little 
angel christened Ala Ray by a baptism of joyful tears ! 
her little pilgrimage inaugurated by the loves of parents, 
sister, and friend. Might not these strong links which 
were woven with our heart-strings round her keep her 
upon eaFth ? Was the chain, all shining brightly as it was, 


184 


THE MONTANAS, 


sufficient to bind an angel to this weary world, or should 
those little feet first learn to walk the gold-paved streets 
where eternal sunbeams lie, while for us the sands fall, the 
morning flowers perish in the broad noon’s heat, and suns 
sink daily into night ? Mute lips have kissed thy rod, O 
Death, since the first golden morning dawned on 'Para- 
dise, and will continue to do so until the last sands fall — 
the flower wreaths of earth shall perish, and the last suns 
go down. 

But oh ! we never thought of the failing glories of this 
world or its waning sun, while beamed upon us this bright 
morning star from the firmament of the immortal. We 
basked in its radiance, never seeking to know if it would 
set in the darkness of night, as other hopes had done be- 
fore. We neither thought of nor feared the curse of idolatry. 
How strange and sudden sounded Mrs. Kings well’s solemn 
warning one day to the little circle gathered round the crib. 
Aunt Edith held Ala in her frail arms ; Mr. Kingswell sat 
near, talking gravely to the little lady as though she was 
quite able to comprehend what he . uttered, though I could 
see he regarded my aunt with as much tenderness as he did 
his grand-child and hers. The reverence almost with which 
Mr. Kingswell deported himself towards Aunt Edith and 
she towards him was to me a matter containing facts filled 
with grave speculation. 1 was puzzling my head about 
them when Mrs. Kingswell repeated her warning that we 
should not make an idol of Ala Ray. I saw that Raymond 
shared her apprehensions on this score, yet what availed 
the^r utterance then ? The silken fetters were already grown 
so strong — then the object of homage was so sweetly fair, 
our worship was involuntary. We could not withdraw one 
tithe of the great love we had given her as time flowed on, 
even though the sands fell, the flowers perished, the golden 


THE MONTANAS. 


185 


sun went down very calmly, and tlie night dame on whose 
stars saw oiir hearts lying in the dust beneath the smiter’s 
feet. The Haynes were occupying their summer residence 
near to Ridgely. Though Warren was in Way burn more 
than once during our stay, he and Stanley never met in 
private circles ; it would not have been quite safe for 
either. Notwithstanding the cold blue eyes of his wife, 
which had looked her displeasure so severely, in considera- 
tion of his attention to me at a party one evening, he 
would have sought us out and called to see Stanley, had I 
consented that he should. I had grave reasons for my 
refusal. There was that in the very presence of each to 
the other, a spell which would have unsettled all resolu- 
tions for silence and calmness, even while past grievances 
were uncancelled, past wrongs unaccounted for. Ah ! 
when heart rose up to meet heart, each in their every throb 
true to the summer music of old; when soul and soul 
unmasked stood calmly looking beyond earth and time, 
where would have been those frail barriers then ? An act 
of the State legislature has made it possible, by the strong 
cords of society, law, and custom, to fetter a man physi- 
cally with an external bond of marriage ; but in the holy rela- 
tion, can it do the rest ? Can a few formal words uttered by 
a minister of God make the music of his life and fireside ? 
Can rude hands of a custom that is universal unlock the 
inmost doors of his being and bring the treasures forth ? 
Ask of those who vainly try to still these voices uplifted 
above the hollow observance of rites sacred only when hal- 
lowed by a love undimmed as time fiows on, consecrated 
by a truth that never pales. 

I met Warren several times during his stay at Wayburn. 
There was ever upon his face an anxious look, as though 
he sought something which he failed to find. I thought 


186 


THE MONTANAS. 


how, with that faded wreath, had perished the flowers of 
his life, and of the solitary ship cutting its way to the 
heart of a lonely sea ; but never more ran my golden river 
now — a seal of fate was upon its lucid current. 

x\unt Edith was so much improved, it was thought best 
to remain at Eidgely until November, and thus another 
summer rippled by. The few months from spring to 
autumn had wrought in our baby a full, rich change, 
though I often saw the light which is not of earth dancing 
in her eyes ; hence, in recognition of a fact, awful, solemn, 
full of anguish, I could only bow my head and pray 
dumbly that she might linger with us. Often in the glow 
of autumn I pondered of these things, and marvelled why it 
was so — that the fairest and brightest things that are given 
us upon the earth should leave us thus. 

Many a sunset found Stanley sitting on the grass-plot 
with the child in her arms, watching the lingering light on 
those far New Hampshire hill-tops, and the blue mists 
gathering in the valley depths below ; then again until the full 
moon silvered them, and the stars took up their watch above, 
has Ala Ray sat silently looking into space, and seeming 
to feel a childish need of something we of earth could not 
give her, something it was not ours to give, but the Father's. 
Then she would sink into a deep, sweet repose, smiling while 
she slept ; the mother said she was talking with the angels ; 
and the father, calm, thoughtful, yet fearing he knew not 
what, would kiss his little darling awake, and ask her over 
and over again if she loved to sleep under the stars. Again 
and again has he brought her back, as it were, from her 
wanderings in Paradise, to lay her infant beauty to his 
great, true heart, as if in that strong father-love he would 
keep her with him for ever. We called her our spirit-child 
— our sun-ray. When the little folks at Way burn spoke of 


THE MONTANAS. 


187 


her, they always called her Ala Montana, as though she 
were half-grown, and not the infant she was. 

We must take her with us to Claremont,” Aunt Edith 
said; and her tones were full of pleasant curiosity as to 
what Miss Phoebe and the servants would say of Ray’s 
baby ; what rare exhibitions we would have of her infant 
accomplishments. Thus we went on scheming for the 
future, and making plans — as the sons and daughters of 
men have vainly essayed to do from the beginning of 
time. The little to-day is not deep enough nor broad enough 
for the life we would crowd into it. 

November came with its elections ! Abraham Lincoln 
was chosen President of the United States. A Northern 
president I think of that, ye delegates to the Baltimore con- 
vention 1 Think of that, ye dignitaries at Charleston, who 
recklessly withdrew your support from the great Douglas 
in favor of John C. Breckinridge. Ah! did they not 
think of it in after days — angrily, defiantly, ere they cut 
themselves aloof, with the states they represented, from 
tlie body of the nation ? The conservative heart went out 
to Douglas ! When wire-working partisans reversed the 
current in his favor, why should they manifest surprise that 
the faction to whom their act had given a majority should 
have asserted its latent power, and gathered strength in its 
triumphant course? Further still, when those Southern 
representatives in Congress and the Senate of the United 
States withdrew their voices from the legislative halls of 
our common country, what right had they to be amazed 
that the great machinery crashed on without them — whether 
to glory or to min ? Let those decide who shall write our 
Nation’s history — perchance, her epitaph. 

Life in every department, in every grade, was a convul- 
sive tumult, agitated by the approaching storm, which has 


188 


THE MONTANAS. 


since burst, ob ! bow wildly ! Hearts that were bravp and 
true ; graves where the clods are new, out-spread ’neath 
the heaven’s bright blue; sad tears for me and for you, 
watching the long night through ; all, all, save the weary 
few, lying out ’neath the crimson dew; red blood where 
the green grass grew ; our loved ones, where shall we seek 
them? Yet they are everywhere save in the homes where 
their names are loved and cherished, where we shall miss 
them ever more. We may rebuild our national structure, 
erect pillars of her greatness that tower far towards the 
eternal heavens, yet we cannot mend the household altars 
that are broken into fragments in this strife, or bring back 
one tithe of that which has gone down beneath thy tides, 
O Revolution ! 

The sands are falling — ^bolts of death, the flowers perish 
and are consumed in the fierce fires of strife, which burn 
through long nights of anguish after the suns of many bat- 
tle days have set in blood, which all eternity may not wash 
out. 

But we are here to tell a simple story of the heart-trials 
of one small family of the millions that are unwritten — the 
God of battles, the Christ of peace has the record. When 
the reveille is sounded and the earthly roll-call has been 
vainly repeated, and those who were left sleeping by the 
way-side have failed to come in answer to the summons, 
we feel the. assurance that many whose names were written 
among the “missing,” have been folded to that infinite 
heart of the God of storm and refuge, who from out the 
battle tempest has taken them to himself. 

Thus came November ! a cold, bleak, northern Novem- 
ber, of piercing winds and bare trees. I remembered that 
dear sojourner amid strange scenes had repeated to me, 
with such pathos in his tones, that thrilling poem of blood’s 


TEE MONTANAS. 


189 


idding — “ My life has been one long November ! ” I knew 
|iid felt the truth of what he said then ; the autumn pre- 
lious, as we sat in the gathering shadows at Brightland — 
Ihe Promethean fires of genius burning in his glorious 
eyes. Yes, he had his November as well as Hood, only 
Clyde Ingram’s, unlike the great poet’s, was unwritten — his 
geuius was none the less immortal ! an attribute that is 
never at home with the commonplace on earth. If it finds 
not the one haven which it seeks all through its world- 
bound range, a love pure, glowing, and eternal, it is ever 
with its possessor a stranger and pilgrim in the life- ways. 
Perhaps it was the fact of my having grown to woman- 
hood in the atmosphere of his presence, inhaling the invi- 
I gorating breath of grand silences and soul-thoughts shin- 
^ ing through the few words we have need of, that has 
given me in some measure a clue to hidden natures, such 
r as Clyde’s. But certain it is I never hear any one say of 
another “ they are peculiar, I cannot understand them,” but 
I immediately divine there is something more than ordinary 
to be comprehended, something to admire, to love, to 
delight in, that the world knows not of, has not yet recog- 
nised ; for it is slow to acknowledge, and has no innate per- 
ception of any grand truth, individual or general. Those 
are the natures that always walk the loftiest paths of earth ! 
rarely coming out of their citadel of proud reserve ; to learn 
‘ to know them well is to love them evermore. 

I And where was that life — that November in the cold 
^bleakness of our season at Ridgely ? Not one word from 
I him since he left us the preceding autumn. Now that the 
! fiowers were perished I often walked out ’neath a sky low- 
ering and grey, repeating to myself a little poem I had 
once read. I recall it to-day, despite the time and space 
between ; there is comfort, and hope, and promise in it : 


190 


THE MONTANAS. 


“We meet at one gate — 

When all’s over. Thy ways they are many and wide ; 

And seldom are two ways the same, side by side — 

May we stand at the same little door when all’s done ? 

The ways they are many, the end it is one.” 

There has ever been a light in these little lines that has 
shown me the dark way, and taught me a lesson which but 
for what has happened I might have been long in learning. 

I remember I was thinking of it the last evening of our 
stay at Ridgely. Clyde’s uncle sat beside me, with his 
kind hand upon my head ; deep into my heart sank the 
words that he said. 

“ There is true happiness, Jennie, without alloy, to be 
found in the performance of duty. No matter what rugged 
paths we tread — through wastes of life, to the sunny plains 
beyond. In working for destiny we are working for God ; 
and the most direct route to Him and to heaven is one that 
is wrought by hands that are ready and willing to do His 
will. There are heroes and heroines in this world more 
worthy the name than those who are sung in story or 
storied in song ; brave spirits ‘ who find God in the thing 
lying nearest to be done.’ The record of such lives is 
yonder, where also will be revealed that silent struggle of 
yours, dear, and hers and his. Trust God; wait in 
silence — only work for the end and the victory ; it will 
come to you ; if not here, hereafter. Be strong, little one.” 

And listening to his words, I tried to believe him, for I 
felt he meant what he said — this practical Christian. I saw 
the radiance in his dear face shining like the sun over 
the far hill-tops that I loved ; further off from me in these 
long days and months of trial, seemed the faith of wh^ch he 
spoke,^ and the promise whose fulfilment he pictured 


THE MONTANAS. 


191 


Here was only for me the weary waiting ; yet I prayed 
lilently to God in that November. 

Ten days later the same circle sat by the parlor fireside 
in our own home. Besides our family, Raymond, Mary, 
fettle Ala, and Mr. Milverton came hack with us to Clare- 
mont. The baby was delighted with everything she saw — 
fce tropical plants, and winter birds singing in the boughs of 
^ergreens, the falling fountains, the fiowers that were 
everywhere ; and everybody was delighted with her, even 
Aunt Dinah, who regarded her curiously between her 
spasms of tear-shedding as though she feared the little crea- 
ture might take wings and fly away, exclaiming over and 
over again : 

“ Who would a thought I’d a lived to see Mars Ray- 
mond’s baby! at Claremont? And the beautifullest creetur 
too !' with skin like them -little white daisies in the cabin 
gardens, and eyes jest like the blue sky ! and hair jest like 
our own Miss Stanley’s when she was a infant.” 

Hawsey was immediately installed chief protectress of 
her young mistress, and became so much enamored of her 
little ladyship, so won by her gentle ways,- that she in her 
enthusiasm declared her intention of persuading Miss Mary 
and Mars Ray to permit her to follow the little blossom, watch 
and tend her even when transplanted to her Northern home. 

“ What ! ” said Aunt Dinah, go up thar and be a free 
nigger? Never! De gal’s gwine crazy plum.” 

When she found that her mother greeted the proposition 
with such lofty indignation, Hawsey, to all intents and pur- 
poses, relinquished her hope of becoming maid of honor to 
the juvenile Miss Montana. Though to all external appear- 
ance Hawsey acquiesced, I observed that she did a good 
deal of private wire-pulling through Raymond and the rest 
to gain her end. 


192 


THE MONTANAS. 


Miss Phoebe knitted more persistently than ever now ^ 
she declared her purpose, before so vague and distant of 
fulfilment, had assumed a tangible shape. The counterpane ' 
had long been destined for Raymond’s baby. 

Uncle Montana was delighted with his grand-child. The 
third day after her arrival he brought home a handsome 
cup of gold with her little name upon its side. Presenting 
the pretty gift to her little grace with mock pomp, he told 
the story of the golden cup in mythology, and how the 
bearer stood at the gate. Miss Phoebe interrupted him with 
saying : 

It is my opinion that child will wait long at no gate ; 
not even the golden one up yonder ; it would unclose of ■ 
its own accord to let the little angel in. She is too bright 
a spirit for this dark world of sorrow.” 

We felt her words were true ! We made no answer ; ' 
how could we ? What should we say ? What was to be . 
we left to time and God, > 


o 

CHAPTER Xni. 

“ There’s a Divinity that shapes our ends, 

Eough-hew them as we will.” 

SHA.KSPEAEK. 

I AM off for Brightland ; who goes with me to-day ? was 
Raymond’s interrogatory when he appeared armed with 
whip and gauntlets, equipped for a drive, a few mornings 
subsequent to our arrival at home. Stanley had gone to 
spend the day with some friends in the city ; Milverton had 
gone with her ; Mary was doing some things for baby, sit- 
ting meantime in Aunt Edith’s room, and preferred to re- 


THE MONTANAS, 


193 


main with her during the forenoon. Accordingly, it became 
apparent that the pleasant duty devolved on me. With 
pleasurable anticipations I accepted Eay’s proposition to 
drive behind Clyde’s cream-colored ponies. The groom 
made a few observations as he gave the lines into -the hands 
of his young master which amused me very much. 

“ They will take you that seventeen miles to Brightland 
and back, most as soon as the railroad, young Mars ; Mars 
Clyde Ingram sot much store by dem bosses, so he did.” 

“Who overheard of the railroad taking anybody any- 
where ! the cars do sometimes*.” With this amiable reflec- 
tion Raymond settled his patent leathers with a good deal 
of dash, gathered up the reins with a flourish of the whip, 
and departed at a rapid pace, utterly ignoring Peter’s voluble 
retort to the effect that “ Mars Clyde never whipped his 
hossesJ^ I glanced down at the arched instep so daintily 
encased in shining boots, remarking mischievously : 

“ Aunt Dinah has been sorely troubled lest, with your 
practical life at the North, you should feel called upon to 
dispense with some of the luxuries of living and elegances 
of apparel for which you were noted previous to your leav- 
ing home. I perceive you adhere to the old system in one 
regard at least; you always believed in being well shod.” 
lie answered readily : 

“Yes, Clyde and I, when in Germany, formed a league 
within ourselves to support patent leather in extreme cases. 
My Marseillaise and linen suits have not been aired nearly 
so often of late. It has ever been my policy, however, to 
act upon the hypothesis that cleanliness is akin to god- 
liness ; I endeavor to approach by that means as nearly as 
possible to the divine standard. The flrst thing I did last 
spring was to order a genuine Panama, to which I clung 
persistently throughout the summer.” Then changing his 

9 


194 


lUE MONTANAS. 


high tone for one of earnest meaning, he exclaimed im- 
pulsively, like the frank Ea3miond of old : 

“ I wish Clyde was here, Jennie. I cannot conceive why 
he wanted to go away leaving his business in town, and 
Brightland out of kilter, as it is. To be sure, he has an 
overseer, but that is not like having the supervision ono- 
self. I repeat, I cannot conceive why he left; can you 
inform me ? ” 

“ No — yes — if you really wish it, I will tell you why he 
went. It was because Stanley refused to marry him,” I 
answ^ered, while a chill crept into my heart. 

“ The reason you assign involves another aspect of the 
case. Why did Stanley refuse to marry him; do you 
know ? ” 

“ I presume it was because she did not love him.” 

“ No ; it was because she felt Clyde did not love her, 
though for her sake, and to conciliate our parents, he would 
have sacrificed his personal feeling in the matter. Believe 
me, Jennie, could Clyde have given his heart to Stanley, 
noble, generous, and true as he is, he would in time have 
won hers in return ; but it was otherwise. Now I am going 
to tell you a great truth, against which you have long shut 
your eyes. Clyde Ingram loves you, Jennie, devotedly and 
entirely, as it falls to the lot of but few women in this 
world to be loved. I only speak what I have known for a 
long, long time — since we were children together.” 

In my heart, now I believe Raymond spoke truly. I 
closed my eyes and clasped my hands tremblingly, while the 
glorious certainty of conviction, like waves of tenderness, 
swept over me. I heard sweet sounds from bowers russet 
and red, that girt us on every side. Out into the broad, 
bright light, streamed anew my golden river ; its current 
piped the first hope-lays my orphan heart had sung in that 


THE MONTANAS. 


195 


fair land of promise. I was like one awakened from wliat 
seemed a long, troublous trance, though now the anguish 
seemed far off, as my faith had once appeared, when Mr. 
King-swell told me once, the light ere long would break in 
glory. It had broken, and I could think only of my great joy, 
not daring to look up, lest it should vanish. Now I opened 
my mind’s eye wide. Great Heavens ! Was that my beam 
tiful river, still rippling, gliding on ? — its current stained 
with blood I Yes, the tides ran crimson now — its channel 
widening, deepening — as it flowed onward to an ocean of 
gore ! I clasped my hands, exclaiming : 

“ Oh, Eay, this is horrible ! ” 

“ I sympathize with you, Jennie ; this sudden revelation has 
bewildered you, but, for the life of me, I cannot see what 
there is so horrible about it. Clyde is a chivalrous, noble 
fellow, one of those grand souls who would unhesitatingly 
lay down life for his love. Why could you not give him 
one little corner in that great heart of yours, little 
sister?” 

“ Do not ask me, Eay, anything about it ; some day I 
will tell you all I know.” 

Just then, we came into the avenue leading to Bright- 
land. Ah ! November, too, was here, sighing round the 
lonely house, brooding in the distant marshes, and in the 
bars and dots of mellow sunshine that came down through 
the tall cedars to play at hide-and-seek upon the nut-brown 
grass. Then in that solitary, loveless life of his — November 
always, from youth to age — one long November. Yet into 
my heart, illumined as it was with the light of the glorious 
truth that he loved me, none of the glooms and shadows 
about me could ever come again. Though I was happy in 
the knowledge of these things, I dared hope for nothing 
that promised the fulfilment of my hopes ; for oh, those 


196 


THE MONTANAS. 


crimson tides were sweeping on, tlie channel ever broaden- 
ing, deepening, while they ran. 

The servants, all anxious and excited by our arrival, imme- 
diately bestirred themselves in the effort to make us com- 
fortable and prepare for us a repast, as it was near noon. 
Meantime, I made a tour of the house, while Raymond 
talked over business matters with Clyde’s overseer. I bathed 
my face, arranged my hair, and sat down for a breathing 
spell on the upper piazza. 

Brightland was situated on an eminence; below were 
nut-brown swamps dotted with forests of pine, through 
which coursed the little stream by whose side we often rode 
or walked, in the golden days when my bright river ran 
cheerily ; high over head the cold, grey sky arched over a 
November sea. I seemed to hear Clyde’s voice and feel his 
presence everywhere ; and my heart sent forth a cry — Oh, 
brother, come back to me ; I am weary, and want you so 
much. I knew now why it was he could not bear to have 
me call him brother ; knew also what he meant when he 
said “I loved one woman, but she loved not me.” Yes, 
Raymond’s words were true ; Clyde’s heart was mine — only 
mine — through long years, blind years, when I saw it not. 
When I thought I loved alone, pride kept me silent ; now 
I felt that he too suffered — the barriers melted all away. 

Ray came jauntily round the corner of the porch, talking 
in his usual off-hand manner to Clyde’s overseer, Mr. Marley. 
This gentleman was of Northern birth, with red hair, coarse, 
wiry, red whiskers, and cold, black eyes ; just the man to 
lord it over slaves ; one who would draw the rein tightly, 
never sparing the rod. He said, with his quick, sharp 
accent : 

“ It has been some time since I heard directly from Mr. 
Ingram, though I hold weekly communication with his 


THE MONTANAS. 


19'7 


agent in tlie city. He told me that Mr. Ingram spoke of 
going to Australia, in a recent epistle addressed to himself. 
Crops were very fine last year of rice and cotton ; sugar, 
average. We shall cultivate largely next year, while we 
have the hands. ‘ Make hay while the sun shines,’ is our 
policy. Do you know ? ” he continued, squinting one of 
his hard, black eyes until it was almost closed, “ since peo- 
ple have become generally aware of the result of our elec- 
tions, many of our neighboring planters have had trouble in 
keeping down their slaves. Mr. Ingram’s servants seem not 
to have become affected with the malaria, for he is a good 
master, and I believe if they had choice to-morrow, to go or 
stay, they would remain to a man, though the elements of 
dissatisfaction may arise here too, as they will, doubtless, 
all over the whole country.” 

The man’s words actually startled me. The storm had 
indeed been brewing a long time ; the crimson river was 
fairly booming now, and I felt the issue to be certain and 
near, and the end far off; yes, far beyond the blood-red 
tides of years ; as surely on that day as on this, almost four 
years between. 

“ In the event of a war between the sections,” continued 
Mr. Marley, “ your sympathies would be with usV'* This 
last was said with an insinuating leer of familiarity which 
Raymond’s recent democratic surroundings had not in the 
least degree prepared him for ; he drew himself up, answer- 
ing very coldly, never once deigning to look in the direc- 
tion of the hard, black, questioning eyes : 

It should matter but very little to you, sir, or any one 
else, as regards the direction to which my sympathies tend. 
I shall never permit them to sway me in the slightest, at 
the expense of principles involving right and justice ; which 
means duty to country as well as to my fellow-man ! ” 


198 


THE MONTANAS. 


Spoken like our own Raymond, I tkouglit — little Ala’s 
father. Bless her,” he exclaimed, while his eyes ran over 
when we were fairly on the way to join her. 

“I cannot tell you half I feel for that little darling, Jen- 
nie ; or how intricately day by day she is growing into my 
life.” 

“You need not seek to do so, Raymond; I know it all. 
Ala is precious to every one of us ; but oh ! brother, I feel 
it is wrong to worship her blindly, passionately, as we do. 
Supposing we should lose her? Then, if war should be 
declared, which is possible and probable, you may be called 
upon yourself to go — for your country to die — leaving her 
alone in this weary world. In that case, dearest brother, 
would it not be better that she went first ? Remember, the 
golden portals are not closed against our Ala, Ray. Any 
time that God called she could go, and be welcome.” 

“ Oh ! don’t,” he exclaimed, as though my words were 
lances that cut him to the soul; “ it almost kills me, Jennie, 
to think of this, even.” He dashed the tear-drops impa- 
tiently from his face, and we came swiftly up the Claremont 
road. Where was my warning when Hawsey came out to 
meet us with Ala seated upon her shoulder, holding her 
dainty little hands while the child very demurely and qui- 
etly smiled to us a welcome home ? Was it the slanting 
sunbeams streaming over her brow and face and hair that 
made her seem so supernaturally, almost divinely beauti- 
ful ? I only know I never saw on any other human face 
the expression which her baby features wore very often 
nowadays. 

A pleasant group sat dressed and waiting on the veranda 
in the Indian summer glow of a waning day, which I called 
my last day at Brightland. Tea was announced, which was 
spread in the most luxurious manner; broiled meats and 


THE MONTANAS, 


199 


game ; hot biscuits with coffee, tea, and chocolate ; a side- 
table bearing fruits of every description which the season 
and climate afforded. Lane Austin joined us in this meal, 
as was his custom to do at evenings nowadays. Though on 
this special occasion he startled us with a formal announce- 
ment that the Haynes had arrived in the city for the win- 
ter. I saw the very shadow of a crimson flush come into 
Stanley’s cheek, then fall again ; but she made no sign. 

“ Will you call upon them ? ” “ No,” Raymond an- 

swered abruptly and emphatically ; thus the matter rested, 
though Stanley suffered, oh ! how much : and I loved and 
sympathized with her, which was the most that I could do. 
I was powerless to help her in any way to bear her burden. 

The misunderstandings which had driven Clyde and me 
asunder were nothing to this ban which made Stanley’s 
pure love a sin in sight of God and man. 

We met them the next afternoon as we drove down to 
the city. Stanley was looking radiant in a dress of cherry 
silk, trimmed with guipure lace, finished with point collar 
and cuffs ; an ermine mantle, swinging by its snowy silken 
cord and tassel, partially enveloped her shoulders. Her eyes 
were sparkling, her curls flowing, cheeks glowing ; this was 
the picture that met Warren’s eyes as we swept hastily by 
them. I intercepted his glance of recognition of her, em- 
bodying a wild, passionate gleam that made me tremble ; 
there was in it such an expression of reckless steadfastness 
which told he had suffered much, and in that instant was 
ready to do and to dare anything or everything for her ; 
even to ignore his galling bonds — to come out from them 
to her pure side again, and vow in the presence of all the 
world the love that was consuming him. I knew that safety 
for either lay only in time and distance; in which even 
the frailest might take refuge. They were both upright in 


200 


THE MONTANAS, 


principle, but love was at tbe belm ; and duty was a frail 
ship in which to combat the surging waves while the tides 
of fate set strong against them. 

It was a hard winter for Stanley ; we met the Haynes 
almost daily in our drives — occasionally at the theatre and 
opera ; but never in our private circle ; it was my policy 
if possible to avoid a tete-a-tete for those two — my cousins. 

One evening, near the close of the season, there came a 
party of serenaders to Claremont from the city. I detected 
Warren’s voice in the chorus to a full rich ballad, embody- 
ing a German air very pathetic and touching. Stanley 
brought me a card upon which she had pencilled these 
words — “ Go Warren, and for my sake as well as for your 
own, never, never come here again.” There was no 
signature, but I knew he would instantly recognise her 
chirography. 

“ I approve your measure, but I should have worded it 
somewhat differently ; Warren is a gentleman, you know ; 
this may lead him to fear you misconstrued his presence 
here.” Her answer reassured me : 

“ No, no, he came thoughtlessly, I am sure, meaning no 
reflection whatever upon my name. There was in that 
plaintive song of his the burden of memories that will not 
be crushed down ; he is haunted by a ghost of former joy, 
and forgets that I may not be strong enough to hear the 
hopeless voices that tell me of a by-goiie time.” 

I spoke slowly and cautiously to Stanley, after having 
despatched a servant with the card addressed to Warren ; 
much as I felt for her, I also pitied him. His manner in 
their meetings recently, brief and circumscribed as they 
were, had given her vastly the advantage ; he had mani- 
fested all that he felt for her — the hopeless love and vain 
regret; while she was more than ever convinced that War- 


TEE MONTANAS. 


20i 


ren liad married for wealth. He never divined that she 
loved him still ; he deemed her false and fickle — thought 
she had cast off Clyde from pure caprice. 

I had never told Stanley of the evidence he had of her 
untruth to him ; had not shown her the letter I held in 
my possession ; I did not deem it best, just yet, to reopen 
wounds that had bled at every pore. I knew how cold 
and cruel must seem those little words of hers to him who 
already misjudged her. As we stood next morning on the 
veranda, a servant on horseback ’came up the carriage road 
from the city, bearing an exquisite bouquet, together with a 
note for Miss Montana. “There is no answer,” she said 
haughtily to the man ; then drew me softly into her own 
apartment, closed the door, and read as follows : 

“ You have bidden me come no more where I may look 
upon you; you have denied me the simple desire of my 
eyes ; I will comply. If from all the past you will permit 
yourself to recall the one of my words that was most ear- 
nest and full of solemn meaning, believe that word to be 
true to-day as it was in that bright time. And let this be 
my apology for having annoyed you on the last evening of 
my stay. I leave for New Orleans to-day ! let these simple 
flowers find a place somewhere near you— within the circle 
of your presence ; they bear to you my long farewell — a fare- 
well which I dare not speak ; my lips henceforth are sealed.” 

I saw how it was ; his patient words had smitten a place 
in her heart which she thought cold and hard towards him ; 
ah ! it was only her power of will that made it seem so. 
She tottered to where I sat, her arms outstretched, with a 
little sharp cry of anguish that was ere long broken by 
sobs that shook her young frame like a reed as she lay 
with her golden head upon my shoulder, and her white, 
cold arms clasped rigidly about my neck. Her emotional 
9 * 


202 


THE MONTANAS. 


moments of late had been so few, I was surprised at hei 
indulgence of feeling even on this occasion. 

“How could you be so strong and hide all from him, 
when you have suffered daily, hourly, so much ? ” 

“ It was from her I hid the 'pain^'’ she said, almost fierce- 
ly ; starting up and petulantly bathing her face, as though 
angry with herself for the outbreak. 

I mused for a long time, then said : 

“Stanley, darling, has it ever occurred to you there 
might have "^een some counter current here — some tide be- 
neath the tides, which has turned the current of two lives 
apart, when they should have flowed together? You be- 
lieved Warren false ; I believe that he has always been 
true ; that his marriage with that woman, and the prolonged 
pain he suffers, are the inevitable results of a conviction 
that you yourself were not true, and cared nothing at all for 
him.” 

She made a haughty gesture of incredulity, but I pro- 
ceeded fearlessly nevertheless : 

“You have both been deceived — duped — cruelly, shame- 
fully ; take my word for it. I will not tell you how I know 
this ; you might not feel inclined to listen ; perhaps it is 
better you should not hear it. There is one thing, how- 
ever, I wish you to understand; it is that you are very un- 
just to Warren Hayne when you cherish any feeling of 
resentment towards him. He is at least in every way 
worthy your esteem and friendship, if nothing more ; kinder 
words are due to him than were those of yours last night. 
I am sure you will repent them some time. I wonder he 
bears them gently, patiently, as he does. I will leave you 
now ; I must go to Aunt Edith ; please join us soon.” 

But Stanley did not come. She remained alone through- 
out the day ; she did not respond to her brother’s special 


THE MONTANAS. 


203 


summons to dinner — excused herself upon the score of a 
headache. Ray gave me a piercing look of inquiry when 
Hawsey returned with her answer, then said in a quiet 
undertone, designed for my ear only : 

“ She has had a good many headaches recently.” 

Heartaches^ too,^ was my mental suggestion, but he 
understood that too well. As I was going to my own 
room, I met her brother coming from hers, looking much 
pleased about something. 

She has promised to witness La Fille du Regiment this 
evening,” he exclaimed, his face full of concern for the even 
transitory happiness of his dear sister. I thought often of 
that expression of triumph on his face in days that came 
after — when he was fighting on a broad battle-field that 
was far from our home and his. 

I kept wondering all the afternoon if it were best to tell 
Stanley al] that I knew concerning that affair of hers and 
Warren’s ; act as I felt, and express boldly my conviction 
that Retta Austin had intercepted their correspondence. 
Finally, I decided it was but just so to do ; whatever peace 
could come between them now, would aid in tranquillizing 
the mind of each, and could be maintained silently without 
encroaching upon another’s rights ; at least, it would take 
the burden of a crushing doubt from the heart of my sweet 
friend. 

I went to her room later in the afternoon ; she was drink- 
ing a cup of tea, preparatory to making a toilet for the even- 
ing. She said languidly : 

“Come, Aljean, I want you to help me. Ray says I 
must look my best to-night ; do you know, since brother 
has been talking to me so earnestly about many things, I 
have half a mind to accept Milverton’s hand, and go away 
with him anywhere — I care not — across the ocean, per- 


204 


THE MONTANAS. 


haps? I am recMess, and ready for anything and every- 
thing.” 

I quietly dismissed Hawsey, installed myself dressing- 
maid pro tern, to her young mistress, while she continued to 
talk on in that careless, hopeless strain, which cut me deeper 
than her words of anguish : 

‘‘ It may as well come now, all that may happen in time. 
I presume I must get married ; everybody says, how strange 
it is that we do not — you and I, so sought for and appa- 
rently desirable.” She gave a little shudder here ; she was 
too weary and heartsore to play well the part she had 
assumed. 

‘‘ Lane Austin, Jennie, who worships the very ground on 
which you walk ; let us make those two poor fellows happy. 
What say you ?” 

“ And ourselves miserable in the meantime ? ” I said, 
interrogatively. 

“There are two prominent barriers between Lane and 
myself ; we lack the consent of the parties most directly con- 
cerned ; he' is not in the notion, neither am I ; on that point 
we understand each other perfectly. Though were it other- 
wise, I assure you I should never outrage my soul by marrying 
any man whom I did not and could not love, even if he loved 
me ever so much ; neither would you, though you were 
talking at random thus.” She mused for some time, then 
resumed : “ After all, what avails this weary waiting? It is 
aimless ; rushing into that other association would not be 
wholly objectless; new scenes and new ties might wean me 
from some I find if necessary to eschew. Oh, Jennie ! I 
am heartily sick of the whole pageant — this life I lead.” 

“ If this were all, Stanley, we might well become so ; 
but there is something beyond, when the pain and waiting 
shall be over. Uncle Kingswell has told us of these things 


THE MONTANAS. 


205 


many times. I did not realize his hope then ; I have since 
felt the truth and glory of all that he meant. Life is but 
a trial season, a prelude to eternity.” 

“ Ah ! it does for you, J ennie, who have no secret pain 
to bear, to talk of life as though it was far away from you ; 
I am thirsty, and feel its burdens are so real. It is much 
harder for those who are travel-stained and overcome with 
the heat and dust of the journey to come into that higher, 
brighter way that Mr. Kingswell talks so sweetly and hope- 
fully about. Dearest, the pathway to that promised land lies 
through toil and tears and suffering ; there are thorns in it, 
and I am too weak and powerless to pluck them out.” 

If you cannot do this for yourself, perhaps you can for 
a fellow-traveller whom we once esteemed very dearly. He 
is your friend and mine. Do as I bid you, and the sharp 
arrow will be extracted ; the act will be as balm to the 
bleeding abrasion.” So saying, I took from my pocket a 
casket containing the pearls Warren requested so earnestly 
that I should give her. “ You will wear them, dear, for his 
sake and mine.” 

She assented, doubtless imagining the gift came from 
Clyde, though with characteristic delicacy she forbore to 
question me on the subject, believing I would tell her all that 
was needful when the fitting season came. I rolled from my 
fingers masses of golden curls, then lifted them, fieecy and 
light, from her pure, beautiful brow, ran the little fillet of 
bright blue across the glittering mesh, and caught them by 
the pearl brooch at the side. I gathered the longer in a 
cluster, twisted with them a few half open orange blossoms, 
and cauixht the mass at the back of her Grecian head with 
a pure white comb, then clasped the pendants in her tiny 
ears, then stood off to witness the effect of my handywork. 
I had reason to feel proud of my effort and my friend. I 


206 


THE MONTANAS. 


call her so, because in the category of terms there are few 
dearer to me than this. She was radiantly lovely, attired 
in a dress of Marie Louise blue, with an ermine victorine 
caught by its cherry tassels. It was curious to see how the 
golden rings of hair broke here and there from the mass 
of brightness with no apparent design but to look what 
they were, a part of Stanley’s witchery. The household 
greeted her with acclamations of delight when she came 
below stairs ; Milverton handed her into the carriage. 

“ Nothing could console your unworthy votaries in having 
lost your society for the day, but the fact of your coming 
forth so radiant this evening.” Poor fellow, what else 
could he say, he was so dazzled by this vision of loveliness. 
Stanley thanked him kindly as we were being whirled 
away ; the buggy containing Raymond and Mary followed 
swiftly in our wake. 

We had scarcely taken our places in Clyde’s box when I 
observed the Haynes immediately opposite in the dress 
circle. Stanley, too, saw them, though she seemed not to 
do so as she sat playing abstractedly with the cherry tassels 
of her victorine. 

I caught Warren’s eye just in time to intercept a look of 
grieved tenderness which I had seen so often on his face 
of late. The pained expression passed from his brow as a 
vapor in the clear shining after rain ; ” then an expression 
of rest came over his features it was pleasant to look upon. 
He turned his attention now to his wife, while the rich 
swell of orchestral music rose and fell like the waves of 
tenderness in those two souls who loved a love that was 
hopeless yet deathless. Stanley was wearing his gift ; she 
did not then despise him utterly ; it was for this evidence 
of relenting and forgiveness on her part he had waited in 
New Orleans another day. Now he could go home braver. 


THE MONTANAS, 


201 


stronger to do liis work in life. Strange, tow even tkis 
little manifestation that Stanley remembered him more 
kindly, than her apparent slight and her words to him 
the previous day had given him reason to believe, filled 
his heart with intense joy. 

We all felt happier, I think, for that evening’s en ter tarn - 
ment. We could look into the future with more clearness 
and certainty — even Stanley, whose strange mood of the 
morning had entirely passed away. She was more at rest, 
and seemed to accept the destiny that was her life 
patiently. She asked me no further question concerning 
the donor of those pearls, and I told her nothing more just 
then ; the time was not yet come. I hoped I scarce knew 
what for either her or Warren — only that God would help 
them and bring them into His peace and His great love, 
which was strength and might. 


0 

CHAPTER XIV. 

“Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 

Then rushed the steeds to battle driven, 

And louder than the bolts of heaven 
Far flashed the red artillery.” 

Campbell. 

Now come we to the saddest part of our stor57^ ! The crim- 
son tides sweeping through my fancy came nearer and 
nearer. Through homes of the North and flowers of the 
South ran their desolating course. Cold hearts sat shivering 
by colder hearthstones as the blood-red current trailed. 
Oh ! whither would it bear our hopes and dreams ? Who 
could say, TTiere is no face that I have kissed and loved 


208 


THE MONTANAS. 


lying underneatli tlie clods of a way since worn and beaten 
into dust by feet that bear our sacrifices to tbe funeral pyre, 
to await the fiery billows that should consume them. Ah ! 
no ; rapidly the keen darts are fiying ; you may encase your 
heart in a covering of adamant, they will yet pierce you 
through. Many a life-path to the far eternal lies through 
fields of gore, and our dead sleep not where home-shades 
may shelter them from the noonday sun that beat upon 
them in their last toilsome march. 

The Haynes, as well as Raymond and his family, had 
returned to the North. There were summer flowers and 
warm bright suns that shone with a lustre that was mockery. 
The inauguration of Mr. Lincoln proved to be but another 
name for the inauguration of rebellion in the South, which 
involved our country in civil war. One by one those States 
had broken the old band of sisterhood, had seceded, and 
formed an antagonistic league under the Palmetto banner 
of South Carolina. 

Ere March had sighed out her last days of peace, and 
April came cheerily with her bright wreaths and glad voices, 
“ the guns of Sumter knelled in the war.” Oh ! with what 
agonized terror we watched and prayed, while the South with 
one accord, one heart, flew to arms, and were ere long en- 
rolled as enemies to country and government. Men of the 
South, high and low, rich and poor, were soldiers in the 
broad field together. The fair, bright brow of many a mo- 
ther’s only son was crisped in the toilsome march to strug- 
gle for a phantom which they called liberty ! The result of 
this infatuation was a tide of resistance, unquenchable as 
the life bounding in those young veins like the current of 
some inspiration, and a purpose that meant victory, suc- 
cess, but was only — death. 

All through that long sunny summer we waited, for what ? 


THE MONTANAS. 


209 


We scarcely knew ; listening to tlie rattle of musketry and 
the tramp of soldiers on drill. We often drove down to 
see the Crescent Guard, with their gay uniform, go through 
the manual of arms. There was such buoyancy in each 
young face, and jests passed carelessly from lip to lip. Ah ! 
of that body of men how few have lived to tell the story of 
those days ! Swiftly, to rise no more, they fell beneath the 
fire from battalions of the enemy ; but they fought like 
men — brave men, who cared not for life when weighed 
against a purpose that was stronger. 

I have since heard jeering lips scout the idea of Southern 
men, not inured to toil, being able to fight the long battle 
to its close. Horace Greeley, I remember, talked eloquently 
about “ crushing the rebellion with a blow.” But gradu- 
ally that kind of thing has ceased to be, since we have 
learned the characters of the men with whom we war, 
and come to recognise in the Southern heart an attribute 
that fearlessly counts no cost, no sacrifice, unworthy the 
cause in which their energies were embarked — which meant 
resistance to the bitter end. 

In late autumn came a letter from Clyde, the first syl- 
lable he had addressed to me since his departure. He 
stated briefiy his views with regard to the war ; expressed 
an opinion that the country would be invaded, and it would 
be better for us to go North to remain permanently until 
the thing was settled. This we decided to do, and had our 
arrangements completed when he came home. 

We sat, Stanley and I, in the summer-house, talking of 
many things; of that past through which my bright river 
ran — of the solitary ship amid ocean tides — lastly, of our 
city circle, so changed and broken. There was a tempest 
in the social atmosphere, whose rain fell in blood-drops on 
the earth — whose fury was sweeping a generation of human 


210 


THE MONTANAS. 


beings to tbeir last account, when Clyde Ingrain came and 
stood silently before us. 

I should have risen to give bim my hand, as my heart 
had risen to greet him, but there was neither trust nor hope 
in the strange calmness of his manner — the look on his stern 
face. The hard lines about his compressed lips softened 
not for an instant, while Stanley plied many inquiries con- 
cerning where and how he had been, and why he had re- 
mained away without writing us one word. 

“ Oh ! I thought you would not care to have letters from 
me ; there was nothing to interest you in the details of my 
life as passed in those forest wilds ; I considered the most 
charitable thing would be to allow you a respite from my un- 
willing persecution. I should not now be home but for the 
fact that my country needs me. On the first intimation of 
her involved state, I left Australia with the intention of 
offering my poor service in this hour of her peril. I felt I 
had no right to withhold the little I could do.” 

My heart leaped into my throat; the decision for my 
future was here and now. I asked the question cautiously, 
vainly endeavoring to still the throbbings of heart and brain 
as I awaited his answer, which came slowly and solemnly. 

“The die is cast, Aljean, without wish or will of mine; 
this armed resistance to the Government seems a rash pro- 
ceeding ! but the present administration is at war with our 
institutions. I am no man, no Southern man, if I give not 
to the section in which my lot is cast, the work my hands 
can do for the South. Had I been a member of Congress, 
my sense of justice would have led me to occupy that place 
until the trial season was over. Placing ourselves in a defi- 
ant attitude — assuming the offensive, was, I repeat, a rash 
act, and furnished a pretext for many aggressions on the 
part of the federal authorities since. God knows I love my 


THE MONTANAS. 


211 


country, its starry flag and constitution, but I cannot turn 
traitor to the South — my section: see her bleeding at 
every pore of her haughty heart, yet raise no hand to help 
her. I cannot join with those who would desolate her ; 
my all is here. I must preserve that — my property, if 
possible, from utter ruin.” 

Stanley spoke what she felt . vehemently. “ Oh, Clyde ! 
for God’s and country’s sake, take no stand while patriotism 
and conscience are thus dissevered. Remember, if your pro- 
perty were gained, would it not be worthless if you sacriflced 
principle'in the effort to retain it ? Your hearty my brother, 
is not with those who have trampled under foot the Consti- 
tution and the old banner ; then do not identify yourself with 
such ! Come out from among them ; take no part in the 
weary struggle ! wait for the issue ; God holds the balance ; 
give not your life to assist in turning it one way or another.” 

“Stanley, my more than sister, you talk just like a 
woman ! you do not seem to realize there can be no such 
position while we stand beside the seething caldron and see 
the fires are glowing. I must go in one direction or the 
other ; after all, it makes little difference the position one 
occupies in this diabolical business. I hold that all war is 
wrong! God never intended that generations of human 
beings should murder one another, after the fashion of our 
doing. The glorious insignia of freedom and liberty are 
dimmed by the breath of ambition and party strife. We 
were growing too prosperous as a nation 1 this is our chas- 
tening 1 We had reached the climax of civilized arro- 
gance ; we are culminating towards barbarism.” 

Stanley again remarked — 

“ It occurs to me civilization is a mythical term of sectional 
strife and hatred in these days of miserable bicker- 
ings.” 


212 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ True ! it is a hateful age ! *As for myself I do not 
live in it. I have broken all bonds of companionship with 
those who do ; have eschewed its petty commonplaces 
and requisitions; have learned to live above everything 
except its sufferings and desolateness.” 

I looked at him ; the pallor on his face had given place 
to a glow of excitement which quickly paled and blanched, 
as do our blush roses in autumn. I saw burning in his 
eyes the great fires of genius, grand and immortal as 
his own soul. For this choice spirit was there only a lonely 
way, a constant reaching after companionship with a mind 
from which had been purged the drosses of every-day 
existence, one who could look upon its weird, distorted facts, 
carped and misshapen as they were, from the stand-point 
of a judgment coupled with foresight: a sense of justice 
that was far above all petty estimates and demands. He 
sat looking so grandly self-poised and self-centred, he did 
not need me ; how could I approach him as he sat up among 
the stars — far, far above me, while he did the work of life in 
harness, struggling with the fetters he could not wear and 
could not break. My heart waited a long time in silence 
in the dust at his feet, then the words — Oh ! Clyde, how we 
missed you — were forming on iny lips when Milverton ex- 
claimed at the entrance to our arbor : 

“ Upon my word, ladies, this is too much for even an 
amiable bachelor like myself to bear tamely ! Just think of 
my having wandered about these grounds like a disembodied 
spirit, in search of these two young ladies since tea-time ; 
now at last I find them holding a clandestine conference 
with you. By the way, notwithstanding an overwhelming 
sense of personal wrong in whi6h you are involved with 
them to your discredit, I will say I am glad to see you ! 
Welcome home, old fellow, l am glad to see you back ; when 


TEE MONTANAS. 


213 


did you arrive in the, city, and how long do you purpose 
remaining 

“ I came two hours ago ; I shall stay until I am ordered 
to depart with a regiment, the command of which has 
been tendered tome, now forming under the auspices of 
Lieutenant-Colonel Austin at Brightland. As regards th 
young ladies, having less claim upon their attention 
and courtesy than your more fortunate self, I will resign 
them to your charge until I have seen my mother.” So 
saying, he arose to depart, but was prevented by Mil- 
verton. 

“ Oh ! I beg your pardon, Ingram, I shall not be so un- 
generous as to claim both ; I will not play Shy lock in return 
for your liberality. If Miss Stanley will favor me with her 
society, I will ask nothing more.” 

Clyde bowed and led me from the summer-house, into the 
night brightened by moon and stars, along the old familiar 
paths. I could feel his heart throb against my arm, though 
even in our home ways reigned the old silence which I could 
not break. Strange, I had resolved to say a thousand things 
to Clyde when he came home about the terrible mistake T 
had made. I meant to tell him, without his asking, that I 
did love him dearly and had loved him long; that my 
coldness and caprice were assumed to disguise the truth, 
because I thought he loved Stanley. I imagined it would 
be an easy matter to tell him these things, but it was not 
so. I waited silently until he spoke tremulously. 

“Will you tell me of what you were thinking, Aljean?” 
I started, endeavoring so to do, but only succeeded in blush- 
ing quietly instead. Then his eyes wandered again to the 
starry avenues, as though my reply — even if I succeeded in 
making one — would affect him very little, and was some- 
thing he had no right to expect. His aspect aroused my 


214 


THE MONTANAS. 


pride, then enabled me to answer, though somewhat con- 
strainedly and coldly : 

“I was thinking of Brightland — quaint and old, hal- 
lowed by such thronging memories, yet desecrated by 
the tread of unhallowed feet! of the tri-colored banner 
floating there ; coarse jests and oaths breaking the silence 
of other days. 1 am glad we are going North. I could not 
bear to remain here a witness to the enactment of such 
scenes.” 

“ Even if you stayed, you would not be pained by them 
long,” he said gently — very gently. I was ready to die of 
shame at my petty outburst of an anger I did not really 
feel. I hated myself for loving him, as he was so far above 
me that even harsh words of mine had no power to touch 
him. I wanted to retort, and should have done so but for 
that calm, unapproachable look on his face, which said — If 
kind words never come from you I can at least shut my 
heart against those that are not so ; they shall have no 
power to sway me. 

I went into the house to prepare Aunt Edith for this 
surprise, leaving Clyde to follow. When I had informed 
her of her son’s arrival and calmed her agitation, I sent 
Hawsey with a message to that effect ; when he came in 
I withdrew to the veranda, leaving them alone. I saw a 
carriage coming up the lighted avenue, then heard gay 
voices ask a servant if the ladies were at home. I arose, 
went to my room to smoothe my hair. I paused a moment 
at Aunt Edith’s door as I was going to the parlor. The 
scene in that apartment was too holy to be intruded upon. 
A strong man kneeling reverently, his face full of tender- 
ness, beside his mother, chafing her hands, telling her the 
things long pent up in his heart. Miss Phoebe’s needles 
plied the task a little more reluctantly, for upon their bright- 


THE MONTANAS. 


215 


i 

I ness was tlie mist of human tears, though no one saw them 
! hill upon that night of our last reunion. Aunt Edith’s voice 
was very sad and sorrow-burdened, though very gentle. 

“ Wliy have you left me so long, my darling boy ?” 

“ I went because I could not stay. The why and where- 
fore of this fact is a secret which only God and my own 
heart know. I have never told it to mortal, because there 
was no one to hear it ; therefore I went, that I might keep 
it to myself.” 

And will you really go into the army, my son ?” 

‘‘Yes, mother, I shall go ; my regiment is being equipped 

and armed ; and I must” he paused suddenly ! a 

spasm of agony convulsed Aunt Edith’s haggard face; I 
came forward here, sending Hawsey to find Stanley and 
infonn her she was expected in the parlor, and took her place 
at Aunt Edith’s side. Still I heard the gay voices below ! 
how strange sounded the hum of their light talk while we 
listened, Clyde and I, to Aunt Edith’s recital, which was 
very sad. I will only give the reader a portion of what 
she said that last night : 

“ My parents opposed bitterly my union with your father, 
Clyde, though I married him notwithstanding, because I 
wanted to come away from what had been to me the scene 
and season of a trying sorrow. They would never have 
consented either to my marriage with the only man I ever 
•truly loved, because of some misconduct on the part of his 
sister. It was very hard for us both ! He, too, suffered, if 
possible, more than I ; though on account of the shame in 
which the affair involved him he was too proud to suppli- 
cate for my hand ; neither would he tempt me to disobey 
them and marry against their will. Never, my children, 
hold any human being accountable for the sin or wrong- 
doing of another — even though that other be a near ftiend 


216 


THE MONTANAS. 


or relative ; it is cruel to make them responsible for what 
they cannot help. Mr. Ingram came North with his little 
son who was then but a few months old, in charge of Miss 
Phoebe. I met him by accident; he courted me. I ac- 
cepted him for the reason I have told you ; though my 
father entreated me earnestly not to do so. 

“ ‘ That little boy,’ said he, ‘ will never requite your care of 
him ; one’s own children rarely do that ; he Avill do less.’ It 
so happened, providentially perhaps, we had no children 
of our own. When your father died he gave you into my 
charge. The man whom I had so loved, I heard was happily 
married to a noble woman, and living in the region of my 
old home. I did not wish to return there ; neither did I 
wish to assume the management of these estates during your 
minority. Accordingly I appointed Mr. Kingswell guard- 
ian to you ; for the sake of our past he accepted the charge, 
and retained it even when I married Mr. Montana, to whom 
I committed your property in trust. You owe much to the 
kind guardianship of both these men ; they are good and 
true men. 

“ Do not misunderstand me, my son, I am not heartless ; 
though I did not love your father, I venerated him for his 
integrity and high principle; we were mutually kind and 
happy in our brief union. The father of my children I also 
respect and esteem ; but all the love of my heart was given 
away before the duties of wife and mother came to me. 
Somehow, all the pent up current of tenderness flowed out to 
you ; I would have given you since the most precious boon 
in my keeping, my child, my Stanley ; but you could not 
love each other, it seemed, and I guess it was not to be. This 
disappointment I bore silently, though my heart was set 
on having you my own as long as I lived. But I cannot 
bear tamely that your hand should be raised against my 


THE MONTANAS. 


217 


son. Mr. Montana always loved best bis own land. Ray- 
mond bas inherited bis father’s preferenee. I think be will 
be with the government, right or wrong ; as it is just that 
be should be. 

“ Claremont is yours ! We remain here only at your 
option ; once you take the position you have accepted in 
earnest, it becomes imperative that you should*send us away 
beyond the lines. Now, my son, does it seem to you right 
that I, a broken-hearted woman, should suffer thus by the 
voluntary act of a child whom I have most loved and che- 
rished ? And that he in the days of her infirmity should 
place himself in an attitude where it will be impossible to 
afford her home and shelter ? As for myself, I shall not 
need it long; but for Stanley and Jennie, my daughters, 
have I asked even this vainly of you, Clyde, who was ever 
before so kind to us all ?” 

“ Mother, you really tax and try me very much indeed. 
I owe everything I possess, and more, to yourself and Mr. 
Kingswell ; besides honor, respect, and love, which I feel I 
have given to the uttermost. As regards my real estate, 
including Claremont and Brightland, it is yours ; it is to 
defend these for the sake of yourself and your children, 
against those who would desolate them, I stand where I 
do — an enemy to country and government ! 

“ I am not responsible for Raymond’s position any more 
than for my own. As regards your remaining liere, mother, 
I am anxious to have you do so ; though with your present 
proclivities that would soon become impossible ; besides, it 
would not be pleasant in the event of an invasion, which 
we have reason to fear and to anticipate. I shall not meet 
Raymond in the field; we neither of us know, certainly, 
that he will go into the army ; though even with the cer- 
tainty that I should meet him face to face, yet would I not 
10 


218 


THE MONTANAS. 


foil in doing wliat I feel to be my duty in the matter.” He 
bowed his head upon his hands, and wept ! In all our 
lives together, I had never seen him thus moved. He was 
a child still in his feeling for her who had been a mother 
to us two, who were orphans. Clyde Ingram stood not 
now among the stars above me ! By nature, he was not 
cold, but tender and gentle as a woman. 

“ Oh ! my children, I have lived too long ! How can I 
bear this last great agony ! It was, indeed, very hard to 
bear, though many women have borne this and more — 
their hearts lying in the dust beneath the grinding wheel 
of Kevolution; aw^aiting the Almighty hand which alone 
can raise them up ! 

Miss Phoebe motioned us to leave the room; Clyde 
stepped into the veranda, I followed him tremblingly, 
for I had begun to realize there could be no wavering in 
his course now ; upon the only ground which appeared 
tenable, I resolved to stand by him even to the last issue. 
He seemed to possess an innate recognition of my deter- 
mination, for he took both my hands in his, saying very 
tenderly : 

“ Did you come to comfort me, Jennie ? J have far more 
need of it than ever before ; I am so weary ! Oh ! if you 
could only have found for me a resting-place in that great 
heart of yours, I should not feel so utterly alone and deso- 
late in my ’ sorrow now. Why could you not love me, 
Jennie, when I have loved you always so dearly, even 
though you would never let me tell you so.” 

Gracious heavens ! the sky had unfurled banners of broad- 
bright blue ! The night was ended, perfect day had burst 
upon us. There was no lonely sea with the solitary ship 
ploughing through its watery heart ; only the music of my 
bright river as it bore down from the first days of this 


THE MONTANAS, 


219 


hope ! I saw no crimson tides staining its current in the 
morning of the new existence into which I had suddenly 
been launched. This sensation, however, was only momen- 
tary ; when I raised my eyes to heaven, I saw the stars 
burning dimly, and the moonbeams fell with a cold flicker 
that was strangely unreal, though I scarce noticed these 
in my eagerness to tell him all ; nothing should keep the 
knowledge from him now ! I commenced, excitedly : 

“ Clyde, for long years I have,” 1 heard some one 

speak my name ! I turned as Retta Austin came upon 
the veranda in search of me. She bore^a summons for us 
to the parlor. We could make no reasonable excuse for 
failing to comply, so she remained with us until we joined 
our friends below. Neither upon this occasion were spoken 
words of explanation that might have made us happy I or 
at least have saved us from days and nights of pain that 
followed. 


•O' 


CHAPTER XV. 


“ Easier were it to force the rooted mountain from its base, 

Than force the yoke of slavery on men determined to be free I V 

Southey. 

There was a gay company assembled in the drawing-room ; 
how handsome Clyde was! How princely he appeared 
beside the flippant young men whose thoughts ranged no 
higher than the badges worn to designate their respective 
ranks. There was Ella Soule, Lane, and Gerald Austin^ 
with their sister Miss Retta ; who, as usual, commenced her 
garrulous tirade the moment we entered the room. 

‘‘We have not seen you for an age ; Colonel Ingram — 


220 


THE MONTANAS. 


how kind of you to refresh us with one first, last sight of 
your handsome face before going into the field. The first 
glimpse, as I said before, for an age ! The last, perhaps for 
ever! Jennie, you are not too much of a Yankee, I trust, 
to admit tliat he is looking magnificently in his uniform — • 
grey with scarlet trimmings,” she added, turning to me. 

‘‘ My opinion would affect him very little ; he is not the 
least vain of his rank, and would prefer waiting until he 
has earned” 

■ — ‘‘ Ilanging at the hands of the Federal authorities,” sug- 
gested Milverton mischievously, concluding my sentence 
in a manner entirely foreign to the original design. “Your 
pardon. Miss Jennie; be kind enough to conclude your 
speech, for the benefit of all. ‘ Until he has earned ’ ” 

“ The appellation of Colonel. When I lived North, it 
was not our fashion to deny to any individual a distinction 
to which his conduct entitles him, even if that be the 
one which Mr. Milverton supplied ; though I sincerely hope 
the last named dignity may be conferred upon those better 
fitted to sustain and enjoy it. I should really feel sorry 
were I expected to designate all my old friends by some 
military title ; though this war now pending is a fortunate 
circumstance for men who before in the social status were 
decidedly below par 1 ” 

“ For examples. Lane and Gerald,” suggested Ketta ma- 
liciously. “ Ella and I drove out to Brightland one after- 
noon to see the regiment drill ; it did splendidly ; though 
if our embryo heroes would only forget their dignity when 
off duty 1 Our young men have inaugurated a system of 
drilling and attitudinizing before the parlor mirrors. You 
should see them, Jennie ; it would amuse you infinitely.” 

“ Ah, poor fellows ! ” Milverton said, with patronizing 
pity in his tones. “ Once in the field there will be little 


THE MONTANAS. 


221 


leisure for that sort of amusement. Perhaps the Yankees 
will cure ^hem of vanity, by depriving them of these little 
luxuries. One or two hard rubs will take the polish from 
their idea of the service ; the time they were wont to be- 
stow upon their mustachios they will learn to devote to 
their fire-arms. Life at a post, in quarters, is delightful pas- 
time; more charming than lying down to sleep, after a 
supper on hard-tack and bacon, with the enemy’s shells 
bursting in your camp, setting fire to your commissary stores, 
and pirouetting gracefully about your ears. The Yankees 
are reserving for you petted sons of wealth many of these 
delightful entertainments.” ' 

“ I am sure they are welcome, and will get value received 
for all the favors they choose to confer,” Gerald answered 
pettishly, his black eyes hashing defiant fire. “I am long- 
ing to show them of what material our Southern army is 
composed; and to teach those who talk enthusiastically 
about crushing the rebellion, as though it were the easiest 
thing in the world accomplished, that there are human 
hearts piled up ; these are its bulwarks of strength ; let 
them try, they will feel constrained to charge their abolition 
President a pretty extravagant price for the task before it 
is complete. We will see that he pays it. You may ex- 
pect to hear glorious accounts of us soon ; true, as they 
plead, we are unaccustomed to hardships ; our men were 
not raised to the profession of arms ; but we can fight if 
necessary. We are ready and willing to do what we can ; 
our allegiance and service are free as air ; we can set no price 
on these, for our hearts are in the work. For a cause so 
glorious we are ready to sacrifice any and everything ! ” 

It was on my lips to ask “ what cause ? ” but a glance at 
Clyde’s calm white face prevented me. Retta spoke instead : 

“ Were I Lane and yourself I should reserve my boasting 


222 


THE MONTANAS. 


until the close of the war ; it is much easier to anticipate 
results than to face causes and work them out ! ” 

“More especially such piercing causes as the enemy’s 
bullets may chance to prove,” suggested Clyde. “ I agree 
with Miss Retta and the great poet, who bids us — 

‘ “ Learn to labor and to wait.” 

Wait! for how long? Until the war is over; until the 
seceded States are subjugated ; until that high wall of living, 
throbbing human hearts is battered down j Ah, what then 
would they do with an unloving people ? Unloving they 
were in all that Southern land ; for long months I had heard 
no voice upraised for our country’s constitution and her 
flag ; the blood-bought banner that had sheltered and pro- 
tected them by land and sea for prosperous years. And 
those too were silent whose fathers had fought for it once. 
I could look out from the parlor window and behold the 
site of a battle-ground where it was planted January 8th, 
1812. But they had torn it down, and trampled upon its 
constellations ; had come out from its shining folds ; and 
now talked of stabbing the Government, as though they 
were really doing the age and the country a service. Even 
the voice of my love was stilled in the sense of double, 
treble crime, the expressions of which I heard almost con- 
stantly. I could only await the momentous crisis. 

I said there was no voice upraised for the old flag. Ah, 
there was one ; over weary miles it came ; like the chime of 
silver bells the tones rang out upon this night of treason. 
Lane Austin said : 

“ Well, Colonel, at your solicitation I wrote to my friend 
Raymond, offering him the opportunity of filling an impor- 
tant vacancy in our regiment. You shall have the decision 


THE MONTANAS. 


223 


in his own words. I will read an extract from his letter of 
recent date which came to-day : 

“ ‘ Say to my brother Clyde, it is kind of him to consider 
me ; even though I cannot for an instant think of accepting 
it. God knows how deep is my grief that he has done this 
thing. Between us it will be the subject of recurrence 
frequent of pain and bitterness, the existence of which was 
hitherto unlaiown ; it will build a barrier that may be 
eternal, for, living cr dying, I shall never falter in the course 
which I hold to be right, and I hope that my strong right 
arm may become palsied the instant I dare to lift it against 
the old flag. Should I ever fight, so help me Heaven, in 
accordance with every vaster consideration, I will leave all, 
to strike for God and for country under its stars.'* ” 

For an instant, still as the grave was the night of treason 
and fierce rebellion that had closed about me ! Then I be- 
held something, floating, flaming in the higher air : Ah ! it 
was our banner, set clear in the unclouded heaven, held by a 
higher hand than man’s ! and its glorious stars were shining, 
no blight upon their lustre, no dimness in the folds that 
held them, no blood or blight upon the strong standard : 
but a white wreath of victory woven from the crushed 
flowers of dead brave hearts, who nurtured liberty with 
their last drop of life beneath those constellations of our 
country, who had stood and fallen, died under those stars 
of God’s and the nation’s. Was our boy, whose words came 
to us from afar, whose radiance beamed around us every- 
where, of ajl their glorious brightness the one solitary Ray ? 
Ah ! in the light of morning, in the clear moon-times, in the 
darkness of succeeding doubts, that flag was still there, 
flaming high in the sky of my heart ! try as T would I could 
not shut my eyes against it, even though love, stern dictator, 
made me try. Those stars upon our banner, like those I 


224 


THE MONTANAS. 


had counted in the heavens that bent above my youth; 
seemed constantly peering into my soul to see if the old 
feeling for them was there. Slowly from day to day into 
that self-same heart grew the conviction that fate and 
country had set their final seal upon the vast, immutable 
silences that were in it. Perhaps for Clyde or for me death 
with his icy fingers might unclasp them, but now — wider 
and wider grew the space between us ; further and further 
apart our lives were drifting. Ah ! should we two, when 
the battle was ended, pass over the silent way, and at the 
portals of God’s peace stand firm together to part no more ? 

It was a relief when they took their leave. Clyde Ingram 
should carry with him into the broad field no knowledge 
of my love. In that moment of bitterness I could have re- 
nounced him for ever ; him who for years had claimed me 
silently, and I had loved him with a love that left me no 
words to tell it. Words were not required to dissever an 
unspoken bond. Thus let it be, was the fiat of my heart ; 
though next instant, crushed by the weight of its own re- 
solve, it was powerless to act as a bird within bars. 

I stood upon the veranda long after the carriage had 
passed out of sight, these maddening thoughts filling heart 
and brain. The cold night breeze came up pityingly from 
the distant sea, far lying bathed in shining mist beneath moon 
and stars. It was the same picture I had looked on in 
childhood when Clyde was by my side ; now he was far 
away from me and from that old time. I heard his im- 
patient cough on the veranda above, and knew that he too 
was keeping heart-vigil over a dead past. Oh ! why had 
these legions come between us now that our love was no 
longer intangible and undefined? I went to my chamber, 
but not to sleep. I heard Clyde pacing his. How long I 
lay there I know not, I was only conscious that something 


THE MONTANAS. 


225 


great and momentous was happening. I heard suppressed 
voices speaking quickly ; then a light footstep crossed th^ 
room, and Stanley stood beside me at the open window ; 
there was a cold dew upon my face, and mist was dripping 
from my hair. 

“ Oh ! Jennie,” she exclaimed, “ do you not know mother 
is dying? come to her quickly.” I flew with Stanley ex- 
citedly to Aunt Edith’s room. Clyde was there before me, 
kneeling just as he had done early in the evening. There 
were bright crimson stains upon the snowy counterpane, 
and Miss Phoebe wiped the blood drops from her pale, still 
lips. It was thus we passed the night; physician and 
watchers spoke no word until we saw that she slept from 
utter exhaustion; then we saw a look of peace come over 
her features ! there was a rustle as of angels’ wings in the 
air about us ! Aunt Edith’s soul had crossed the blood- 
stained river to the other shore. 

It was a quiet, beautiful death ! I thought of another death 
afar back in the years, and how I, a child, had looked out 
upon the stars and tried to count them, though countless 
they were as sands upon the sea. Oh ! stars of evening in 
that youth-time, bright and glowing, oh ! blighted stars 
upon our flag, and thou eternal sea ! with thoughts of this 
pure beautiful death coexisted thoughts of thee. Death ! 
was this death ? ah ! yes, it came to us mth our first gar- 
ments, and shall continue unchanged until the heavens shall 
be rolled together as a scroll ! Thank G-od for death, since 
through death comes immortality. Those remembered 
words came to me with a pulse of promise for her who had 
crossed the crimson current that was coursing through our 
land. I thought of what one of the characters in Titan had 
said to the old man who was praying under a gathering 
tempest, though he knew it not. 

10 * 


226 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ Pray on, thou man of God, to the all-gracious ! and go 
to sleep before the storm comes onP Thank “ the all-gracious,” 
she was spared the pain of seeing her home wdth its flowers 
laid waste in the battle-storm which shook all homes and 
hearts to their centre. Had the power been mine to charm 
that mother back whose life-task in this world was ended, 
I should have said let her rest in peace, which is denied to 
us as a nation and as individuals. What a change in our 
household since the previous evening! Clyde had come 
back, the mother was gone I a few fluttering breaths had 
passed, a heart had ceased to beat ! in that little .space half 
the world seemed to have changed to us. Ah, Death ! hadst 
thou not enough to slake thy unrelenting thirst upon the 
gory fields outstretched in the land? 

But this was no stern-faced death ; it w^as a calm visage, 
garnished with fair sweet flowers. Many who loved her 
came with soft tread and lingered by the sleeper, until one 
sorrowful morning she was taken away from us, and then 
a long dark file wound over the road to the cemetery. 
From her magnificent home Aunt Edith had gone to bide 
in a narrow house, such as the wife of Captain Bob Eldridge, 
my father and mother, had occupied for many silent years. 
Aunt Dinah came up to arrange and close up the vacant 
room. She held in her hand a large bunch of keys. 

“ I wonder who will take care of these now,” she said, 
piteously, between broken sobs ; “ old miss will never want 
em enny more — ^never, enny more.” 

“ No, no,” I answered consolingly ; “ there are no locked 
doors in heaven. Aunt Dinah.” 

“ Miss Jennie, do you blieve dare is enny slaves in dat 
heaven where missus is f ” 

JNot as slaves 1 We are told that in God’s kingdom 
there is neither ‘ Jew nor Gentile — ^bond or free.’ ” 


THE MONTANAS, 


227 


Next morning it was arranged that the family, including 
Milverton and Miss Phoebe, should go, within a fortnight, 
to Kaymond’s. We were to leave Uncle Montana, with the 
servants, at Claremont. For days we pleaded to be permit- 
ted to stay in the house, even with the vacant place there — 
by the new-made grave, but uncle and Clyde were deaf to 
our petitions. Our preparations were made with a view to 
procuring passes to go North, which we succeeded in ob- 
taining with much difficulty. Little did we think, on taking 
leave, how many weary months would elapse before we saw 
our home again. We had bid adieu to every shrub and 
tree ; to dowers, fountains, and the outstretched sea ; we 
had taken our places in the car as on the morning of our first 
northward journey ! Now there was no mother face to look 
a last, fond farewell through the gathering space ! she was 
sleeping as the storm came on. When we passed Bright- 
land, for the bitterness and sorrow in my heart I could not 
lift my eyes to see the Southern banner floating there. 
Apart and gloomy I saw a solitary figure stand ! a white 
kerchief fluttered for an instant in the morning air : then 
the distance swiftly widened, and I began keenly to realize 
all that I was doing. Henceforth Clyde Ingram was my 
country’s enemy. We should never, never meet again until, 
perchance, we should stand at the one little gate when all 
was over ; and from ways that were many and wide, 
though their dust was stained with gore, we should come to 
bathe our souls in the fountain of love eternal. 

In charge of Mr. Milverton we got on well. At the ex- 
piration of the fifth day three black-robed figures took 
silently their places at Raymond’s board. His fair wife did 
the honors through her tears, when Ala Ray came to her, 
and in her little, clear tones inquired why ‘‘ dandma ” had 
not come with us ? Then we all broke down and wept — 


228 


THE MONTANAS. 


not more for the dead than to miss Baymond from the head 
of his usual cheerful table. But the battles of our country 
must be fought, and we will lay no cowardly, poltroon hearts 
upon her shrine in this her hour of struggle. I recalled 
Moore’s glorious lines — 

‘ Oh, if there be on this earthly sphere — 

A boon, an offering heaven holds dear, 

’Tis the last libation liberty draws. 

From a heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause.” 

In a few days we went to Ridgely. Like rain-drops on 
thirsty sands, upon our bleeding hearts fell Mr. Kingswell’s 
words of peace and promise. Gradually we came to give 
Aunt Edith up, and learned to think of other things that 
were needful to be done in the world’s work before us. 
Ala Ray was to us a perpetual sunbeam of comfort. Day 
by day she was growing in beauty and sweetness ! her 
angel nature expanding like a rose beneath dew-kisses of an 
earthly morning. Never rested the little feet, nor seemed 
the little tongue to grow weary questioning of the strange 
things in the world about her. Oh ! how we loved our 
little darling ! In our idolatry we forgot how Aunt Edith 
had said “ the golden gates were not closed against Ala 
Ray.” 

In Milverton’s first letter after his return to New York, he 
spoke of the Haynes — of having been entertained at their 
house. The wdfe, after her blonde fashion, was inspiring 
her usual sensation in their social circle. “ Hayne,” he re- 
marked, ‘‘is magnificently stately, as it appears to him 
pleasurable at all times to be.” I did not show the letter 
to Stanley ; I inwardly prayed that she might not meet 
Warren : just now her cross was heavy enough. This was 
scarcely probable ! his father had leased his summer residence 


THE MONTANAS, 


229 


in Waybum : there was no reason why Warren should come 
down there, and Stanley would probably not see him, even 
in the event of her going to New York. Her bloom and 
light airy step were coming back. Youth is exuberant, and 
cannot be wholly extinguished : we gradually rise out of 
ourselves ! The self that mourned for the lost, the better 
portion of us, may dwell regretfully with the memory, but 
there is hard work in life for us all ! and necessity compels 
us to come out from the shadow-land of grief into God’s 
day. Nothing will so speedily dispel the cold damps of 
sorrow from our lot as patient duty-doing. 

I was attacked with a malignant fever during the au- 
tumn. It was long ere the crisis came. Then, through 
days of convalescence, I lay in my bed at Eidgely, listen- 
ing in fancy to the bugle-blast of victory ; but the thought 
brought no exultation, for I knew how many hearts were 
bleeding — how many faces growing white and still beneath 
the blow of death on distant battle-fields. The work of 
the revolution had begun in earnest. Letters came fre- 
quently from Raymond, always cheerful, hopeful for the 
final issue. But no word from that other hero, nursed 
near to the same mother-heart, who, beneath scorching 
suns, toiled on — to what end ? Let the future answer. 

The winter came and passed — a long, cold, northern 
winter. We thought the spring would never come, but 
it did, at length, dotting meadows with cowslips and dai- 
sies ; and the suns of April broke gloriously into prisms 
of brightness over the far New Hampshire hill-tops we 
loved so well. We had begun to grow accustomed to the 
old void in home and heart, though Stanley grew restive 
as the summer days lengthened, with nothing special to 
occupy her time. She formed a plan for taking a small 
school in the suburbs of Way burn. Uncle Kingswell 


230 


THE MONTANAS. 


approved her project, suggesting that it should be an inde- 
pendent school, in which were taught only the higher 
branches. He thought it would prove an advantage as 
well as a diversion. I was not yet sufficiently recovered 
to assist Stanley, even had Kaymond sustained her in her 
undertaking. When consulted by letter, he indignantly 
refused to allow his sister to do anything of the kind, and 
was actually wounded that she did not esteem herself as 
he considered her — entirely removed from the necessity of 
exertion for her support. What cared he if remittances 
from New Orleans had ceased to come? We could remain 
at Wayburn without them, until communication between 
the sections was reestablished. Stanley appealed to her 
brother a second time. Her letter ran thus : — 

“ My Dear Hay : It is not that I feel myself an incum- 
brance to you ; it is because Miss Phoebe and myself — 
since we must remain here — want a little home of our own. 
Jennie will remain with Mary. Mr. and Mrs. Kingswell 
approve my plan, and will help me to execute it. Now, 
give me your sanction, and I will be far happier than I 
have been since our dear mother died.” 

Kay could not resist her pleadings ; and so the month 
of the roses found Stanley at work with her school. She 
and Miss Phoebe had gone to live at the cottage in which 
my parents died. Mr. Kingswell himself had purchased 
the property when the formal sale came off, whose man- 
agement was wholly intrusted to him. 

With a heart of poetry within, into what softened curves 
of grace and beauty grew the rough angles of that cottage 
home ! Everywhere was visible the magic effect of Miss 
Phoebe’s cleanliness, Stanley’s flowers and perfume. We 


THE MONTANAS. 


281 


had some delightful reunions within those walls, when Eay- 
mond came home on his first leave, looking so handsome 
in his uniform of regal blue. 

About this time, I received a letter from Ella Soule, 
which filled me with secret anxiety. She had sent the 
letter through by hand ; one paragraph contained a sneer- 
ing taunt that was entirely unnecessary : — 

How should you like to see Claremont, Aljean, since it 
has been transformed into barracks for Yankee soldiers ? * 
I have grown to hate the very sight of a blue-coat recently.” 

" She went on to tell me many sad things of the sufferings 
of friends, but nothing troubled me like this. To think of 
strange feet trampling down the flowers in our home, where 
a sainted mother’s footfalls yet lingered ; its groves de- 
spoiled by the profaning touch of a lawless soldiery ; the 
trail of their devastation within those sacred precincts ! 

I think if any one could bear patiently a reflection of this 
nature, he is possessed of more patriotism than I can 
boast of. Stanley was wise in acting for herself ; we were 
worse than penniless. She toiled on, however, knowing 
nothing of this, nor we of Clyde. Oh, what would I not 
have given for one little word ! But time passed on, and 
that word came not. 

Still the tempest thickened, falling in blood-drops on the 
withered earth ! Still the red tides ran swiftly to the crim- 
son sea, through homes of the North and flowers of the 
South. The great heart of our nation grew sick and faint 
with constant gory depletion. Authorities at Washington 
had ceased to talk so grandly about crushing the rebellion. 
The plea was often one of resistance against the legions 
that bore down upon our shores, leaving their dead, grim 


232 


THE MONTANAS, 


and ghastly, side by side with our own. The record 
swelled, and the sacrificial list grew longer day by day. 
The great heart throbbed faster in its agony. 

I sat thinking, darkly, vaguely, of these things one even- 
ing, as I rocked Ala Kay in my arms. The little thing 
talked dreamily of her dear papa, and how at night he lay 
down to sleep under the stars, adding earnestly : “ Some 
of these times I, too, shall go out to sleep under the stars,'^'^ 

‘‘ My darling Ala, what makes you think and talk thus 
of such things?” 

“ Only because grandma did, you know ; and my papa 
does so, too.” 

I pressed her closely to my heart, and told her how, 
some day, she would sleep on the breast of her good, kind 
father. For I felt she was drawing us with her to the little 
gate where she would take her leave of us. 

Oh, little heart! that loved and twined your blossoms 
round, and little hands that wove into our coarse and 
tangled web of daily life the golden threads that bound its 
meshes to God’s throne 1 Oh, dewdrop of celestial bright- 
ness, freshening the blossoms in our earth-worn souls, until 
they held something of ethereal beauty in their mystic 
depths ! Oh, little feet, that came from their wanderings 
amid the heavenly ways, and left your impress upon our 
wilderness 1 Oh, sweet Ala Kay 1 What do we not owe 
to thee, during that dark season, of pure gushing joy here 
in our world 1 We listened to the music of thy little feet 
along their journey to its close, and then our hearts went 
with thee, darling, over the starry way, into the unknown 
land, while the birds sang, and bright waters ran. Then 
we lived — our body here, soul yonder — during' the long 
night of grief which came after we had laid thee in thy 
little grave — to sleep under the stars of heaven. 


TEE MONTANAS, 


233 


Wlien I laid lier in her little bed that night, which 
gathered full of starry shadows, as I had seen many a night 
in our Southern land ; below in the bosom of the valley 
lay the town, and the swift river running at the foot of 
towering hills, whose summits seemed to creep close to the 
Eternal Throne. With a sure tread of days whose memory 
would never die, I thought how Clyde and I had once stood 
together in the light of a bygone morning, with nothing 
between us save two children’s vague hopes and dreams. 
Ah ! the sorrow and changes since ! The battle-cry. On to 
Kichmond, struck on my heart like a funeral bell ; crimson 
tides ran where the golden river flowed ; and the feet that 
lingered once upon its margin had wandered through a 
rough wide world since then. The youth in my memory 
gave gradual place to a man chivalrous and brave, whose 
breast was bared to the shaft of every friend I had in the 
Federal army. 


o 

CHAPTER XVI. 

“ Farewell 1 a word that hath been, and mnst be ; 

A sound that makes us linger — yet farewell.” 

Shakespeaee. 

Stanley was succeeding well with her school ; God had 
been pleased to turn the hearts of her pupils in love towards 
their teacher ; she was very happy in her own home. 
“ Oh ! ” she said to me once, “ the rare luxury of being 
alone ; of going down into the hidden places of one’s own 
heart and learning the needs of our higher natures, fathoming 
our capacity for enduring all that life offers, be it joy or 
sorrow. I would not exchange this little domicile, with Miss 


234 


THE MONTANAS. 


Phoebe to pamper and care. for me, for the elegant esu^e ot 
Ridgely or Raymond’s more costly surroundings. I love 
to be near you all ; I should be wretched if I could not see 
you daily ; but there are times when I like best tc be all 
alone ; I rely more upon myself, and feel my dependence on 
God more.” 

“ I think we all come to do that when vfe grow acquainted 
with the world as it is. After successive disappointments 
and humiliations we come to seek in our own thought all 
that lay so vast and far away. I would by no means 
depreciate the high and holy privilege «of holding intercourse 
with our fellow-beings ; but, as men and women, we are 
never quite happy unless we can come out from the social 
world and find within ourselves the truest resources of 
happiness. Though there was a time when my little Stanley 
was not the philosopher she is now.” 

She started, fixing her eyes keenly upon my face ; the words 
struck her; she had not forgotten how Warren Hayne once 
called her thus. She smiled a- smile, bitter, yet serene, half 
of memory, half of hope; a hope that had its origin in 
higher things than the fleeting promises of youth, which 
after time rarely fulfils ; then answered me in the words of 
an unknown poet : 

“ I have grown wise ; the disciplines and trials 
Through which I have passed, with bitter groans and tears, 
Were but the shadows on God’s golden dials, 

Pointing me onward to serener years.” 

She had gained them, but would this calmness stand the 
trial test ? I question : 

Darling, you are so young to give up the world thus. 
Does it hold nothing for you ? how do you appropriate the 
long hours apart from your routine of duty spent in solitude 
and loneliness ? ” 


THE MONTANAS. 


235 


“ I ask you, Aljean, what life would be expected to retain 
for me more than duty, when its crown of hope lay in the 
dust until the spirit-hand of a higher hope and life re-adjusted 
it upon a brow where the thorn-wreath sat; true, I spend 
long hours in solitude, but notin loneliness; I will show 
you how I fill them up.” 

She took from her desk a manuscript copy of poems, blush- 
ing timidly as I caught them from her reluctant hand. On and 
on I read ; the beautiful thoughts, so elegantly chaste, were 
couched in language purely her own. Exquisite fancies 
trooped about me as I read my sister’s heart there in those 
mirrors of the mind, in which I saw her glorious soul reflected, 
all radiant and glowing with the impress of Deity. I knew 
her then ; I clasped her to my heart ; the electric chain of 
eternal sisterhood was vibrating between us, as it would 
never cease to do henceforth; oh, howl loved her! In 
my enthusiasm I exclaimed : 

“ I would give worlds, Stanley, to be able to write like 
this!” 

“ There is this difference ; you live your poetry — I write 
mine.” 

A few tender words at parting ; I walked thoughtfully 
down the grassy home-road in the glistening sunshine, 
leaving her to herself; there was no society that could 
afibrd her such joy as these quiet communings with her 
own sublime and glorious soul. This was the woman whose 
loVe Warren Hayne had trifled away with capricious pride, 
had bartered for the gold of her rival. Ah, well ! he had 
taken much less from her than she claimed from him ; she 
could look down upon him from heights which he could 
never attain ; for he wandered not from the shorn avenues 
of society. I was thinking of my cousin Warren, little 
dreaming how soon we should meet again. 


236 


THE MONTANAS, 


On tlie afternoon succeeding I sought Stanley, to have 
her accompany me to my old haunt on the hillside. Miss 
Phcehe informed me that she was already there, and Mr. 
Ilayne having called in her absence, she had sent him to 
seek for her in that locality, 

“ Cousin Warren ! ” I exclaimed with astonishment ; “ he 
here, — how long since he arrived ? ” 

‘‘ He returned from Paris the first of the month, though 
he only arrived in Way burn an hour ago.” 

Very moody and refiective, I took my way to the landing, 
untied the little painted skiff, and crossed the river to the 
opposite shore ; then climbed the narrow pathway along 
the steep hillside until I came to a level space several hun- 
dred feet above the stream. I sat me down beside a cool 
spring beneath the shadow of a grand old tree — the same 
tree under which Clyde and I rested on the occasion of our 
first pilgrimage to this spot. I was thinking of it when a 
voice — sweet, plaintive — familiar to that old time, broke on 
the stillness and found its echo in my heart. It was Stanley 
singing. I wondered if Clyde, amid the din of distant bat- 
tles, ever thought of her or of me now ? I should have gone 
to her had I not beheld Cousin Warren ascending the steep, 
with a gloomy eagerness in his manner that I never ob- 
served before, even in the days of keenest suffering. I 
knew there was something on his mind, in his thought, 
which he felt it needful to speak ! that he sought Stanley 
here for the purpose of seeing her alone. Though the 
undergrowth was profuse, I could not change positions with- 
out discovering to them my locality, thus preventing the 
interview : so I sat quite still, because I wanted that she 
and Cousin Warren should at last come to understand each 
other. I knew that he would be happier if such were the 
case ; and it was only just to each that it should be so. I 


THE MONTANAS. 


237 


knew that Stanley Montana could never come down from 
her proud heights of principle to wrong his wife, even if 
the one’s place had been given to the other. What had 
that civil contract, called marriage, that was loveless, to do 
with soul-bonds that were for time and eternity ? Warren 
realized this when he spoke. 

“I learned from Milverton all^I know concerning you, 
he told me of the confiscation of your property, which was 
a cmel wrong. When I learned that you were teaching for 
a livelihood, knowing that your brother and Ingram were 
in the separate armies, I could not rest until I came to you : 
the refiection cut me to the soul. You, Stanley — young 
and beautiful — working at such toilsome business ! I can- 
not tell why your friends allow it.” 

“ My friends here do not regard this futile effort on my 
part to sustain myself, as a degradation in any sense what- 
ever. It was my own plan ; many of them approved it ; 
my brother did not, though he never thwarted me in his 
life. My course was sanctioned by conscience, and that is 
the highest authority to which an orphan girl can appeal. 
The age is so full of work now, — sorrowing work for unwil- 
ling hands, and burdens for hearts that are bleeding ! I 
should esteem myself miserably selfish if I bore no portion. 
Like the Prisoner of Chillon, I have learned to love my 
toils — ‘ my chains and I are friends.’ I appreciate all your 
delicate considerateness, Mr. Hayne, but there is nothing 
except kindness I can receive at your hands. Do not tempt 
me to change my decision ; I am certain your respect for 
me will impel you to hold sacred the refusal of an offer 
made through sincere disinterestedness. I will do you the 
justice to believe naught else could have induced it.” 

He answered her in a grieved tone ; I could hear his 
voice tremble as he said : 


238 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ Thank you ! respect is a very cold word : but if it ia 
the term you prefer, I will adopt it. But just now — hold- 
ing you more sacredly, reverently, than ever before — I feel 
the time to be at hand when I must and will speak. When 
you were encircled by the peerless arms of society, I could 
look upon you unmoved, though I saw you day by day, 
young, beautiful, beloved by all. I will not say how one 
whose love you scorned, whose praise you set at naught, 
worshipped you more than any. Ah ! you refuse to hear 
the story? well, it would not interest you ; the time is long 
past ; you have eschewed alike the passion and the memory 
of it. It is of other things I will speak now ! other con- 
siderations are involved ; commonplace ones of comfort 
have arisen, instead of the many things that have flown 
from you since then ; there is little left ! I wish to replace 
a small portion of what others have taken away. You must 
and shall hear me through.” 

She put back the words with an impatient gesture ; half 
the ardor of her Southern nature flashed in the answer she 
gave. 

“ And I say that I will not hear you ! Were I starving, 
Warren Hayne, I should accept no aid from you. Our 
conversation should end just here ; in truth it never should 
have begun.” 

How that girl could speak thus to him, while her 
proud soul, thus racked and tortured, lay underneath his 
feet, is more than I can tell. Oh, world ! for thee what will 
not mortals dare and do ! Warren answered impatiently : 

“ Stanley, you will drive me mad ! That you have not 
done so long ere this, was not owing to any omission in 
your effort. God knows how you have taxed and tried 
me ; but let it pass ; if the love on which I staked my life 
could awaken no answering throb, it were vain to expect 


TEE MONTANAS. 


239 


that you would sympathize with the sorrow grown out of 
that early season of grief.” 

He bowed down his head, his form shaking with sup- 
pressed feeling, as she spoke again : 

“ Were it not for the ban upon your lips and life, which 
I would have you respect more than aught else, I should 
ask you to explain the meaning of your strange words of 
accusation ? But now, there are griefs of my own which 
I would implore you to consider if you know how much 
I have suffered. For the sake of all that is past, which 
I have not forgotten, I ask you to leave me ! What would 
the world say ? Would it not cavil that you have offered 
me., an unforttinate woman, the means of support ? ” 

For God’s sake desist I Is the world capable of sitting 
in judgment respecting my emotions and feelings, which 
it cannot know ? Then, for the sake of one who loved 
and suffered before me, parade not the edict of that faith- 
less thing. I hate it. I have as little respect for myself as 
for other votaries who have worn its livery and become its 
minions.” 

“ And yet,” added Stanley, “ we hold society to be in- 
fallible ! It is the world’s voice, and we dare not disobey. 
Who has sufficient courage to brave the displeasure of that 
kingly autocrat, lynx-eyed, serpent-tongued ?” 

“ I have I Society is not the world at large ! It is the 
league of a fortunate few whom birth and position have 
placed beyond the- range of circumstances; who look upon 
life from a stand-point far removed from its casualties, who 
presume to make laws for a portion of humanity whose 
toils and struggles they have never felt.” 

“God’s law is the groundwork of society,” humbly 
suggested Stanley. 

“ So it is, or was originally. However, there have been 


240 


THE MONTANAS. 


wide deviations from the original standard and structure ; 
religion deteriorated! Did the great Father intend that 
institutions of church, designed to perpetuate his love for 
humanity, should become as walls of granite to keep the 
poor and suffering out? When on earth, did He fill his 
temples with high-priests and. judges, and empower them 
to make laws for the transgressor ? What but those in- 
stitutions have peopled insane asylums, and shut an iron 
gate against the wayward and the erring? Does not this 
same system set a cold hard heel upon every generous 
impulse, and ascribe self-interest to every pure motive? 
The world does this — the social world — the religious world ! 
Not the lower million of humanity, but the world, with 
whose opinions and mandate you taunt me.” 

She answered slowly yet firmly : 

You are severe, Mr. Hayne; religion is not confined to 
the observance of any formula, or embodied by an institu- 
tion ! It is simply an intuitive recognition of God in the 
heart. Society has doubtless deteriorated, grown austere 
and exclusive 1 Yet in manv instances within and without 

4 / 

the church we find those who estimate life the weighty 
thing it is ; who generously commend every struggle tend- 
ing towards the consummation of its purposes ; who look 
charitably on those wandering from the right — the feeling 
world, I meant. But it is not the world that stands be- 
tween us to-day, at whose mandate we parted, a parting 
that came like winter to my southern home. I am glad you 
have learned its faithlessness since then I though all the 
while you conned this lesson, the tides, mighty and vast, 
were coming in between our lives, and the space growing 
wider fhere 1 Your friendly feet, even, may not cross it 
now; my heart is yet sick and sore; the smiter’s hand 
was very careless, you know.” 


THE MOHTANAS. 


241 


“ Stanley, will you speak plainly ? Your words are more 
cutting, from the fact that they are m3^stical. I, who have 
so much cause for complaint, could never be brought to 
speak thus to you. It is enough that you reject so bitterly 
my proposition of aid ! Yet I will bear this patiently as 
I have borne other things before ; only take that barrier 
from your thought, say that it is gone ; this life is only a 
little day, and the evening shades are gathering fast ; then 
there is the great to-morrow of eternity. Say not this 
great suffering must endure for ever ; consent that we shall 
be friends— true to ourselves and to each other, steadfast 
evermore.” 

“ The decision was your own, Warren ; you must abide it. 
I repeat, all the great world stands between us ; its tides 
have ebbed and flowed ever since my orange wreath was 
left to wither by the southern fountain. I have lingered 
on and on, have breasted tempests that were not so hard 
to endure as the hopeless calms. One by one the strong 
cords were rent asunder and the lights went out. Very 
sick of heart, I sought to prove myself, to try my own 
resources; I am stronger and happier in the effort. De- 
lights of the mind are the only pleasures that do not leave 
us, when most we value them. When you grow discon- 
tented with your world, Warren, your world — you loved it 
once ; open the windows of your own mind and soul ! God’s 
light will come pouring in, revealing many treasures with- 
in yourself, of which you were unaware. Now, go back 
to the life you have left ; think not of me, except as one 
who tries to be brave, bearing her cross hopefully, patiently. 
Yes, you may think of me occasionally as sitting in the 
sunshine of a far-off time when there was between us two 
no mist and space ; no faded wreath or broken trust.” 

“ For God’s sake, Stanley, let us not part thus, without 
11 


242 


THE MONTANAS. 


one word to sweep away this horrid phantom of formless 
change which has pursued me since we parted.” 

“Warren, I perceive there has been misunderstanding 
and misconstruction, which no words of ours can alter 
now; it is due to your lawful wife that neither should 
speak them — hence my silence. Now, farewell; nothmg 
remains — that word is spoken.” 

There was a rustling in the sunshine of snowy drapery 
and falling curls, then she was gone. The brightness went 
with her. When he ceased to hear the music of her tones 
— so long silent — he unconsciously stretched forth his 
hands, as he sat there, powerless to move or to think. 
All his loving, pain, and struggle bore down upon him in 
that bitter moment, when Stanley left him thus. I rose to 
meet her as she came up the steep ; she fell into my arms, 
uttering a sharp wail of anguish. The time was come to 
tell her all I knew. I spoke swiftly, certain of my ground. 

“ Stanley, my darling, do not take the responsibility upon 
yourself of so burdening a human heart. Warren Hay ne 
loves you — has loved you all the time ; some one intercept- 
ed your correspondence. Your letters and his were pur- 
loined by traitor hands ; others substituted in their places. 
I have known this for a long time ; that is why I wanted 
you to wear his pearls — the bridal gift, purchased in good 
faith for you ; he would not allow another to wear them, 
because, he said, they were yours, though he believed you 
untrue. He has generously forgiven what he deemed per- 
fidy in yourself. He has waived every consideration involv- 
ing untruth on your part, suffering on his. He has offered 
you his friendship ; accept it. Make peace with him ; take 
the thorn out of his heart, darling. Come with me ; speak 
words of comfort to Warren.” 

There was a strange brilliancy, as of delight, in her beau- 


THE MONTANAS. 


243 


tiful eyes. After believing our idols fallen, it is so sweet 
to find them occupying an exalted niche in the great tern- 
pie of human destiny, even though they be high above us, 
where love can never reach them. We came down the 
hillside path to where Warren sat wrapped in gloomy 
reflection. I laid my hand upon his shoulder, speaking 
very gently : 

“ Do not think harshly of her ; she has good reason to 
be severe. All along she has believed you false. She 
received no w^ritten word from you, until the intelli- 
gence, couched in one brief, cold letter, informing her of 
your intended marriage. We thought you had deserted 
Stanley on learning she was not the heiress you believed 
her. I have proved my trust in your further generosity by 
telling you these things. I do not believe you will ever 
betray her, or impart to any human being your knowledge 
of them. Stanley has always been true to you.” Bright- 
er grew the light on his face as I spoke. He took her little 
hand, kissed it reverently, as if it were a holy thing — 
saying over and over : 

‘‘ Ah, poor little heart, it was true to me, thank God I ” 

Then he told us how, after leaving Claremont, he had writ- 
ten all his lover-heart out to Stanley, and had waited long 
months for an answer, which never came — only a letter 
from Retta Austin to Miss Strawbridge, announcing her 
intended marriage with Clyde Ingram, adding : “ My man- 
tua-maker is engaged in preparing Miss Montana’s elegant 
trousseau.” We saw it all. Retta Austin, without promot- 
ing in the slightest degree the purpose for which she dis- 
pensed with her integrity, had succeeded in keeping two 
fond hearts apart: I was glad it was all explained away, 
the haunting mystery. The world could not appreciate the 
need of such a conference, and must not know it ; but there 


244 


THE MONTANAS. 


is no shame in love that is pure and stedfast. Wc should 
only blush for the attribute .desecrated and despoiled of its 
high nature. Between them now there should be ‘‘no more 
bitterness — only fate and dutyT Stanley said bravely, feel- 
ingly : 

“ I can see, now, why this explanation was withheld from 
us until our affection had attained its clearest sight, which 
reveals to us danger and the prudent way to avoid it. I do 
not mean that our love could hold temptation to wrong, hut 
you must respect its mandates, and shield me from the 
world, from even, the semblance of evil.” 

We three came down the hillside together. Warren 
took one boat ; Stanley and I the other. Thus we crossed 
to the home shore. At her request, we took tea at the 
cottage. There was a sweet calmness in their manner 
towards each other. I saw how Warren felt her presence 
in everything about him. Once in his own surroundings, 
he would not feel it near so much. But now he Certainly 
realized very keenly what was lost to him in losing her. 
When he was gone, she said to me : 

“ I can hear, Jennie, all that I must. But oh, if he had 
married some one else ! Some one whom, in time, he 
might have come to love — who had power to make him 
happy — I, too, might learn to he content. But when I 
recall the hungry look of longing on his face, the face that 
I have seen love-lighted and radiant, I feel my burden is great- 
er than I can bear — though I must try, for her hands make 
for him a home, while mine lie listless and idle, unless I 
strive to do God’s work on earth.” 

Thus those two took up their separate ways through the 
wide world, while their souls and hearts in the presence of 
the highest Judge were wedded and one. The days wore 
onward to their close one by one until the summer was 


THE MONTANAS. 


245 


ended ; the second summer of her soul-life was bound up 
with treasures time was garnering for her future yonder, 
where lights of summer never pale. 

We learned from Milverton that Warren had gone abroad 
with his wife, whose health was failing, We heard almost 
constantly from Kaymond ; never from Clyde, though red 
autumn came and went. How swift are battle years, how 
long with agony and waiting; waiting for peace, which 
comes not until the twilight of death has closed out the 
fourth year ! 


o — - 

CHAPTER XVIL 

“ Be thou as chaste as ice, and pure as snow, 

Thou shall not escape calumny.” 

SnAKSPRARE. 

Wayburn, like all New England towns, had its Soldiers’ 
Aid Society, which met weekly at the residence of its friends 
and supporters. A few weeks subsequent to the events 
detailed in the last chapter, the circle met at Ridgely ; I 
was sitting in the library with Ala, while she slept; a 
variety of subjects were under discussion ; Mary was assist- 
ing her mother in household preparations for the entertain- 
ment of their guests ; Stanley had promised to come with 
Uncle Kings well when school hours were over. I held my 
breath with profound astonishment when I heard Mrs. 
Seaman in an adjoining room: 

“ I never in all my life was so mistaken in regard to any 
one ; I wonder Mr. Kingswell should seek to impose that 
creature upon his friends.” 

“To whom do you refer?” inquired sharp-faced Mrs. 


246 


THE MONTANAS. 


Cummins, in a weasel-voice, lier black eyes twinkling with 
suppressed curiosity. 

‘‘Can it be possible you have not heard ? — that Stanley 
Montana who teaches in town.” 

“ Well, what has she done ? ” inquired the squeaking 
voice. 

“We cannot exactly say what she has done, but we can- 
not answer for what she hasn’t done !” answered malicious 
Mrs. Seaman, with the air of one who knew little, yet sus- 
pected a great deal. I remembered that her daughter had 
been a competitor of Stanley’s for the school she had 
established. Mrs. Seaman added : 

“ I never had much opinion of those Southern women ; 
there is something peculiar about all I ever see.” 

Mrs. Cummins’s black eyes glanced vindictively as she 
turned them upon the mild-faced lady who addressed Mrs. 
Seaman now. 

“ If you know anything derogatory to the character or 
usefulness of this young female, speak, for my daughters 
are pupils of hers?” 

“ I don’t know as it is exactly safe to speak about it here ; 
the Kingswells are dreadfully bound up in her. Three or 
four years ago they came here first, them two gals and two 
young men ; young Mr. Montana and another, his nephew 
I believe he called him. I didn’t know as he was any kin 
to him, though I had often seen him here before. Well, 
they stayed all summer, fiying round from one waterin’ -place 
to another; they were part of the time at Ridgely, during 
which period young Mr. Hayne, son of Sol Hayne who 
owns the large place ’twixt here and town, and used to live 
there in the warm season, saw the one with all those curls, 
as is now a teachin’, and fell in love with her, as she did 
with him. Oh, they were the lovinest couple you ever see ! 


THE MONTANAS. 


247 


To Mrs. Martin’s party they wern’t apart five blessed minutes 
the whole evenin’. Then after supper they went out into 
the garden ; he pulled flowers and put them in her curls, 
and came leading her in to the parlor mirror, blushin’ and 
simperin’ after a ridiculous fashion, to look at herself. I 
have always tried to teach my daughter better than to go 
out walkin’ with young men after night, even if the moon 
is a shinin’ bright as day ; or walkin’ with married men 
either, for that matter, even though it be over the hills in 
broad daytime.” 

‘‘Why did they not marry?” inquired meek Mrs. Moore. 

“Well, as J was a goin’ to say, I don’t think he went as 
she did that summer, though he certainly followed her home, 
and was down there a’most all winter ; when he came back 
he told his father they would be married, but he married a 
lady from Philadelphia instead. When I Avas in New York 
that spring after the weddin’, Warren’s mother told me her 
son had made a money match. Be that as it may, he’s got 
the other now and ought to stick by her, instead of hunting 
up old flames to burn his fingers with ! ” 

‘‘ Might he not have called merely for the sake of old 
acquaintanceship?” suggested Mrs. Moore; though Mrs. 
Seaman Avas determined to take no probable vieAv of the 
case, so she ansAvered someAvhat curtly — 

“ If he wanted to see her, and she him, which was evi- 
dent, why did they not go to see one another openly and 
above-board, instead of meeting secretly on the hill ? Then 
he came over in an6ther boat to elude suspicion. After 
having done all that, he went home Avith her. Yes, she 
actually Avalked through the streets of Wayburn with a mar- 
ried man ! ! ! I saw her with my own eyes. I certainly 
think one should not be countenanced at all, who could 
with impunity set such an example to the young girls under 


248 


TEE MONTANAS. 


her charge. As for myself, I shall show her no favor in 
future; she can expect nothing from people who pride 
themselves upon their character for virtue in society.” 

Indeed, thought I, it was wonderful ; Mrs. Seaman’s sa- 
gacity in beholding things that were to be seen ! Yet why 
was she blinded that I was one of the party who walked 
through the streets of Way burn with a married man in 
broad daylight — and that man my cousin, Warren Hayne? 

“ I have often heard that society in Southern cities differs 
very much from our New England towns. Married people 
receive and entertain, and go more frequently into company 
than young people do,” ventured Mrs. Moore, timidly. 

‘‘Well! no wonder there is so much wickedness down 
there 1 — the Gulf States had to break out into rebellion : it 
was an escape-valve for their licentiousness. I have always 
heard the land was a perfect Sodom ! I am more inclined 
than ever to believe it.” 

This observation came from a strong-minded female dis 
ciple of the Greeley school. Mrs. Seaman spoke again : 

“ Well, they should not want to introduce Southern 
fashions in a civilized country, where we don’t indulge in 
such abominable practices. It is the fashion down there to 
hold human critters in bondage. But we don’t intend to 
adopt such an ungodly usage in our Christian community. 
I’ll insure it, if the truth was known, young Hayne had 
good reason for failing to keep his engagement with Stanley 
Alontana. He would have married her if she had been 
worthy I for she was pretty enough, and rich enough, too, 
for that matter, to tempt any man.” 

Ah I how many of that virtuous, self-righteous social band 
would have trampled down a sweet voice in their heart, risen 
above temptation, and gone on in the way of duty, as had 
that brave young creature, whose name they bandied from 


THE MONTANAS. 


249 


venomous lip to lip as thougli it were a worthless thing 
— she who stood so far above their commonplace estiinates 
that their foul tongues might never reach her save through 
the love of her friends ! Yet was she subject to insult from 
this virtuous clique. Virtuous because they had never 
known temptation — harnessed, as they were, to the rack of 
an every-day routine. I think the spiteful old woman felt 
this keenly as I did ; it was manifest in her tones as she 
resumed — 

I repeat, it is a scandalous shame that Mr. Kingswell — 
a deacon in our holy church — should not only suffer himself 
to be thus imposed upon, but that he should extend the 
imposition to us. I came here to-day for the express pur- 
pose of speaking my mind to him.” 

He arrived at the moment; before I could meet them at 
the front door Stanley had bounded up the steps and was 
in the parlor. There were Mrs. Mason and Mrs. Jones, who 
visited her very frequently ; who had actuall}^ courted her 
society : why did they sit there hearing all, upraising no 
voice in her defence ? When will woman learn to brave 
censure and be strong in the name of the good Samaritan 
to defend the right and speak for each other ? Seeing that 
none of us were in the parlor, she merely bowed to the assem- 
bled company ; their ominous glances and frozen counte- 
nances chilled her to the very soul. She withdrew and 
came to me, her face flushed, her eyes brimming, though 
she kissed me as usual, saying no word of the palpable insult 
she had received. 

Tea was announced. When they were seated at table Mrs. 
Kingswell said, addressing Stanley : 

“ My dear, you will preside, will you not ? Ladies, I pre- 
sume most of you have met Miss Montana? She has 
promised to attend our circles regularly ere long.” 

11 * 


250 


THE MONTANAS. 


There came no word of answer to this kind speech of the 
hostess; there was an ominous silence, only broken by two 
or three affected coughs, a rolling up of Mrs. Cummins’s sharp 
black eyes ; then there was a suppressed groan of virtuous 
indignation, scarce audible, from Mrs. Seaman. Stanley’s 
cheeks were glowing ; hot drops swam in her eyes as she 
looked at me piteously. I answered her look significantly ; 
whereupon she excused herself and left the table. I was 
about to follow her from the room, but Mr. Kingswell 
checked me by a look that sent the rebellious blood, up- 
risen in my face, back to its channels again. Mrs. Seaman 
cleared her throat once or twice ; I think the manner of oui 
host somewhat disconcerted her ; while his unassuming in 
tegrity commanded her reverence, it held her in awe. 

“ Mr. Kingswell, do you know this young female to whom 
you have introduced us ? ” 

“I do not clearly understand you, madam; though it is 
anything but flattering, the intimation that I would recom- 
mend as instructress of the young people in our place, a 
person with whom I was not thoroughly acquainted.” 

His tones of polite sarcasm cut deep, and the old lady’s 
wrath waxed warmer in proportion. 

“ Then I must understand you ; one of the leading men in 
our community giving countenance and protection to a 
person whose acts are shameless and disgraceful.” 

I was alarmed ! Clyde’s uncle was actually growing red 
with suppressed anger ! Though he controlled himself, and 
spoke quietly in a low hoarse tone; 

“ In what has Miss Montana offended, may I ask ? And 
upon what ground do you hold her, at an individual tribunal, 
responsible for said offence, even if she has committed one ? ” 

I thought of the great Spirit who said to the woman of 
Samaria, “ Who are thine accusers ? ” 


THE MONTANAS. 


251 


“ For the sake of decency and order we hold you re- 
sponsible for having introduced into our midst a woman 
wdio is so lawless as to have secret meetings with an old 
lover; a married man I Is not this sufficient?” 

Tlie old lady was evidently disappointed in the effect of 
her intelligence upon Mr. Kingswell. When the matter as- 
sumed the form of an accusation against him, he cared very 
little about it ; now he looked to me for an explanation of 
the charges preferred against Stanley. I addressed excitedly 
my vindication to him in their hearing. 

“About three weeks since, as I was going out to walk I 
paused at the cottage ; on being told by Miss Phoebe that 
Stanley had gone to our old haunt on the hillside, I lost no 
time in joining her there ; soon after Mr. Hayne came over ; 
he had much to tell us of our friends in the South. He said 
his stay in Wayburn must be short; his visit there incidental ; 
so he souo^ht us out, after finding neither of us at home. 
At our earnest joint solicitation he accompanied us to the 
cottage and remained for tea. When Mrs. Seaman saw 
Stanley and cousin Warren walking in the street, I was with 
them I She omitted to mention this fact, had forgotten it 
probably, it w^as so unimportant an item in making her state- 
ment to you. I cannot think she would willingly have done^ 
so; her narrative this afternoon, which I chanced to over- 
hear, was characterized by a disposition to be entirely just,’'’’ 

“ Just ! ” he echoed with affable courtesy. “ I am glad Mrs. 
Seaman is so ; I should regret exceedingly to know that my 
lady friends were otherwise ! or indeed that any should be 
so. There is nothing so hard for any human heart to bear 
as injustice ; we should always endeavor to be charitable as 
well ! but at least we should never fail to be just.” 

“ We are oftentimes grievously mistaken in our estimates,” 
remarked Mrs. Seaman, thoroughly disconcerted, fallen from 


252 


THE MONTANAS. 


her enormous height of fault-finding back upon generalities. 
She was beaten at her own game, and this was her only ex- 
cuse for the shameless slander she had perpetrated con- 
cerning my cousins. 

“ Then,” said my uncle, “ the fault is not ours. If we, 
in good faith, take by the hand a fellow-mortal, brother or 
sister, in the great family of humanity ; if they prove un- 
worthy to be so called, there can be no blame attached to 
us. We should not crush every generous, social impulse 
through fear that we might chance to bestow kindness in- 
judiciously. Our reward shall be the same. God alone 
can decide. We have no right in this world to say to any 
man or woman, ‘ Stand aside, I am holier than thou.’ ” 

W^e can all know what we do not c?o,” shrieked the 
little shrill voice of Mrs. Cummins, who came opportunely 
to aid the discomfited Mrs. Seaman. “ I for one have 
always endeavored to live piously and keep the command- 
ments.” 

This was said in a choked voice with an air of injured 
innocence ; and the black eyes looked round the table for 
a sympathetic confirmation of her assertion. Mrs. Kings- 
well now spoke in a calm, clear voice : 

“We are none of us sinless. You say you have kept 
the commandments ; my friends, how did you dispose of 
that little injunction, ‘ Love thy neighbor as thyself have 
you not worked evil to the injury of my young friend here 
without knowing her at all? You have condemned her 
unheard ; your virtual decision has been, ‘ Stand aside, we 
are holier than thou.’ I am less than woman if I raise no 
voice in justification of her evidently harmless act. Were 
it as you say, and she was in heart what you affirm, in 
Heaven’s name who constituted you her accusers f My hus- 
band shall tell you this young girl’s story ; then, if you wish. 


THE MONTANAS, 


253 


you may decide against her, and those who are her friends.” 
She looked the noble being she was, the confident assistant 
of such a husband. Oh ! that of such men and women 
there were more in the universe ! 

“ Her father was a banker in New Orleans, a Union man, 
and a high-toned gentleman ; when the rebellion broke out 
his family came north for safety. On the acquisition by 
Butler and his forces of New- Orleans, his property was 
confiscated with those who vrere supposed to be antagonis- 
tic to the government. Her beautiful home has since be- 
come a barracks for the soldiery. Stanley, born and reared 
in luxury and wealth, came here from the new-made grave 
of her mother. When it was no longer possible to obtain 
remittances from her father, she conceived and executed a 
plan for aiding herself. You are aware, Mrs. Seaman, that 
she — the lady ’whom you seek to defame — is the sister of 
my son-in-law.” 

‘‘ Indeed 1 ” remarked the old lady in a tone faint with 
chagrin ; I have forgotten — that is, I think I never 
knew ” 

“ I presumed Mrs. Seaman was aware of the relation- 
ship,” remarked Mrs. Moore, a little exultantly. 

“ I repeat,” added Mr. Kings well, “ I am suffering no 
compunctions of conscience for having introduced my 
young friend into your midst. In our social circle she has 
no superior ; except, perhaps, in point of self-righteousness 

It was the most cutting speech I ever heard him make ; 
though he had been very much tried that afternoon, there 
was a victorious look on his benign features as he led the 
way to the garden and conservatory. It was yet daylight; 
there were no young men in the party ; Mrs. S. could not, 
of course, object to going too. I really pitied the poor old 
creature, as I do all those who cannot find resources of 


254 


THE MONTANAS. 


diversion and happiness within themselves, and, like vul- 
tures, must needs prey upon the characters of others to still 
the cravings of an active temperament. I imagine the disci- 
ples of Mrs. Grundy to be the most utterly miserable of al 
created creatures. I thought, too, if the poor soldier-boys, 
toiling in a distant front, could only know how many good 
names they cost, they would shudder whenever it became 
necessary to appropriate any article of apparel furnished by 
the loyal ladies — of Way bum, for instance. Brave men 
would rather hear the music of a minie-ball than give ear to de- 
traction in any form: they hate scandal-mongers, and avoid 
them as they would a pestilence. Returning from the garden, 
I met Mr. Kingswell. He said, ‘ I am looking for Stanley.’ ” 

“That is my errand, too, just now; I shall go further, 
however — I shall seek her at the cottage.” 

“I will come presently, when I have taken Ala home — 
when the house is vacated, and Ridgely is itself again.” 

He held the child in his arms, looking fondly into her 
bright blue eyes, while she smoothed lovingly his iron-grey 
hair. Afterwards, as I walked down the garden path to 
the cottage, I saw him leading his little human blossom 
among the flowers of that home. 

Stanley sat near to the open window; she had been 
weeping, and her face was very pale. Miss Phoebe was by 
her side ; a few silent tear-drops fell upon her knitting as I 
entered. There was an expression upon the faces of both 
that kept me silent ; so I waited for Stanley to speak. 

“ Jennie, I seek no explanation of the outrage my feel- 
ings received, and the insult to which I thoughtlessly ex- 
posed myself, a few hours since. I only know that my 
friends, for my sake, were subjected to the keenest humilia- 
tion. So far as I am concerned, the freaks of society affect 
me very little — I can live above them ; but this must have 


THE MONTANAS. 


255 


wounded Mr. and Mrs. Kingswell very much. I will see 
that there shall be no recurrence of the unpleasant scene.” 

I related faithfully all that had occurred in her absence, 
taking care to let the blame fall where it was most just it 
should fall, adding : ‘‘ Poor, malicious, old woman, had I 
possessed no foreknowledge of the facts in the case, I, too, 
might have been one of her converts to the belief that you 
were really a silly girl.” 

“After all, Jennie, it was wrong — that conference with 
Mr. Hayne ; I feel it so now.” 

“That may be, I will admit. From the stand-point of 
society, it does not appear to me exactly right ; but what 
was I to do ? In such cases we cannot be governed by 
standard rules of conduct; cannot make laws for any indi- 
vidual instance, and may scarcely abide by any, in such 
cases. I hold that your love for Warren Hayne is sinless. 
You loved him when he was free, and it was your chosen 
right so to do. Could you forget that love ? Ignore the 
glory of it in a day, or an hour ? No I I hold sinless the 
loves of both. His might have been otherwise, for he is a 
man of the world, Stanley, and they do not think of things 
as we do. That same world, so bitter towards an error in 
our sex, is more lenient towards them. Their sense of the 
nicer distinctions is necessarily somewhat blunted by the 
contact. I have faith, solemn, boundless, in you both ; 
but ‘ dammed up passion is a dangerous thing.’ The safest 
course was to throw the responsibility upon his honor, and 
trust him. I know Warren — know still that he will keep 
inviolate that trust.” 

Mr. Kingswell, as he entered the cottage, caught the 
last words of what I had been saying to Stanley. He laid 
his hands almost reverently upon her bowed head, remark- 
ing in tones which I can never, never forget : 


256 


THE MONTANAS. 


“ My child, there is some cross in life for every human 
being — this is yours. Bear it faithfully ; ash God to help 
you, and he will.” 

He had some way, with his ready faculty, grasped what 
lay between Warren and Stanley. With what delicate 
tact he had administered comfort to her and to me, bear- 
ing my own cross silently ! 

“ As regards the occurrences of this afternoon,” he con- 
tinued, ‘‘ it is needless to ask that you will not allow them 
to wound you. We are all vulnerable to these things. 
There is one consolation, however : the shafts of envy inva- 
riably rebound from an armor of truth and high purpose. 
It is not the better portion of society that claim as pastime 
such indulgences. Whenever you see a female given to 
such diversions, you may be assured she is either very 
illiterate, or by nature very coarse. Refined society is 
more tolerant with regard to the faults and foibles of 
its votaries. Ignorance and prejudice go hand in hand in 
this covert field of action. That meant for section is often 
brought to bear in individual instances. You may regard 
yourself as quite a heroine, Stanley ; you represent the 
South, and must endure all the hatred and malignity direct- 
ed towards her.” 

“I have heard these things before. But for this out- 
break, I could utterly ignore the existence of any unplea- 
sant feeling in the community towards myself : but I cannot 
bear that my friends should suffer humiliation for my sake.” 

“ Oh, if that is all, leave that to us ; we will assume and 
bear it cheerfully. Never allow it to touch you again. 
Live above it ; you are capable of doing so. Show Mrs, 
Seaman that she has no power to strike you. Truth and 
right are their own vindicators and avengers ; leave the 
issue to the arbitration of a higher power.” 


THE MONTANAS. 


257 


We watched him as he went down the path, the sha- 
dows closing round him ; his glorious soul — the solitary 
radiance shining through the darkness — our messenger from 
the Infinite. I remained with Stanley that night. She 
sat up for a long time, writing. Then she came and sat 
beside me, saying : 

“ Oh, Jennie, how I long for the strong arm which should 
have been mine, yet failed me 1 How frail and powerless 
is woman to measure her strength with those of her sex 
who are foes to every effort outside the usual routine. 
Sometimes, for days together, mind is in the ascendant ; 
but I am often made to think that the heart was only ga- 
thering strength, during the little respite, to utter its bereave- 
ment. Then a great weariness comes over me, with con- 
stant longing for a forbidden idol. And I long for death ; 
the quietude of a Southern grave, beside my mother’s. 
This is a hard world, Jennie, even were there no miscon- 
structions, no perversions and injustice. But Christ bore 
all for us — and the death.” 

Death ! True, it was our portion ; for her, the bright- 
haired being at my side, with youth in every pulse of life ; 
for him, who under the folds of the old flag, wielded the 
arms of his country’s defence; and for another brave, 
whose battle-cry was : “ Independence ! the right of self- 
government for me ! ” — with the mystery of an invincible 
silence on lip and heart for ever. Alas ! Clyde Ingram, for 
aught I knew, might lie cold and dead ’neath the bright 
flowers of his native land, whose far-away chimes rang 
through the watches of that solemn night ! 

We had, too, another cause for distress; we had reason 
to fear the safety of Uncle Montana. A few weeks after 
coming north our remittances ceased. From that time we 
had heard no word from him, nor received any intimation of 


258 


TEE MONTANAS. 


his whereabouts, if living. Stanley was right ! This was, 
in truth, a hard world, and its battle-days to us were full of 
suspense and anguish. 


o 

CHAPTER XYIII. 

“ What next ? I know not, do not care ; 

Come pain or pleasure, weal or woe ; 

There’s nothing which I cannot bear. 

Since I have borne this withering blow.” 

Another summer went, its roses, sunshine, and perfume 
by ; another autumn came — russet, crisp, and sere to her 
deserted haunts. One afternoon Stanley had gathered the 
last golden-rods from the hillside, ’and arranged them in 
vases on a table at the open window, near which she sat, 
reading aloud to Miss Phoebe, who as usual was occupied 
with her knitting. Ala Ray came in for her share of the 
brightness and comfort of this little nest. Ala had failed 
very much in health and strength recently. She clasped 
her thin arms about Stanley’s neck, saying gently — she 
seemed to grow in gentleness as her strength wasted, and her 
little tones were like the chimes we often hear in dreams : 

“ Auntie, mamma wants you to come over to supper. We 
think maybe papa will be home, and we want all together; 
we hope to have all except grandma Montana ; she is gone, 
you know.” 

Ah ! there was another of the household absent, 
whose name the child had never been taught to lisp; 
he was held a traitor to his country, to the flag for which 
her father fought, and Ala Ray was too young to re- 
member the days when it was not so ! When they two 


THE MONTANAS. 


259 


were brothers, in heart and soul ; as such they should have 
gone through life together. I saw a bright tear fall upon 
the sunny head nestled in Stanley’s bosom. I know she 
was thinking of the time when it was otherwise ; of our 
Southern home ; how the hopes that clustered round it had 
been broken into fragments and scattered widely at the 
inevitable mandate at other time and place ; would they 
ever be gathered up. Ala went on to say — 

“ Oh ! Aunty dear, if that papa of mine could only know 
how much I have wanted to see him, and how I have lain 
awake nights waiting for him to speak just one little word 
to me 1 And now that these solemn days are here, and the 
wind seems to be crying about this great war, I want him 
more than ever. I never want to give him up again.” 

Ah ! many a time had that father thought and dreamed 
of the little face that looked to him through silent falling 
tears on leaving home, and the little heart that waited for 
him there. Oh ! days that had been ! days that were to be ! 
Of which did we think most then ; and on which lay the 
shadow heaviest as we came up the terraced walks dotted 
with autumn flowers ? 

“Auntie ! 1 think of all the flowers I like the daisies best 
of any I know. They are so small and white, and lie so 
still on the grass in spring-time, as though waiting for God’s 
fingers to gather them up.” 

We raised our eyes ! A pair of manly arms were out- 
stretched ; his little daughter was held fast in a close firm 
gr^p. Ala’s head lay on her father’s breast. Why did 
he hold her so tightly ? He had heard her words, and 
feared God’s fingers would pluck his daisy ere the spring- 
time. The child wept for joy as though her little life 
would go out ; all the while saying brokenly, how much 
she had wanted him, that she would never let him go 


260 


THE MONTANAS. 


again; then entreating him to stay with her as long as 
she lived. He promised her all she asked, as she smoothed 
his crisp curls and kissed his face over and over with her 
soft lips. Oh ! how he had longed to be with them ! And 
bow could be ever leave bis bome-idols again ! Poor man’s 
weak heart fails bim sometimes! No wonder; life and 
fate bold for bim sucb bard trial tests. 

“ Mamma, don’t you leave bim ? ” Ala said. 

“ Yes, daughter ; though you have given mamma no op- 
portunity to say so. Stand down, and let papa look at bis 
little pet.” 

“ Why, bow tall she has grown, and thin,” he added aside to 
Mary, in a pained voice. ‘‘ Ob, I hope she will improve now.” 

“ I was so tired 1 so tired for you to come home, papa 1 ” 

So saying, she climbed into his lap and was soon asleep. He 
laid her in the little crib. Then we all knelt, while Mr. Kings- 
well thanked God for our hero’s return in safety. When we 
were all seated round the tea-table, Raymond remarked : 

“ And so you are all here to meet me 1 This is pleasant.” 

“ All., Raymond,” Stanley asked significantly ; “ have you 
forgotten ? ” 

“ No, sister ; I have not forgotten — I cannot forget who 
is absent, and how he remains away. Many a time since I 
have been a soldier in the service of my country I would 
have given a world, had it been mine, to have shaken bands 
with bim under the folds of the old flag. I could better 
have borne to see bim fall, as I have seen thousands, than 
to think of bim as be is.” ^ 

Then be talked of his campaign — of the Fredericksburg 
slaughter — of the thirty thousand braves sacrificed to so 
little purpose. Then of home and its concerns 1 Of Ala — 
very gently, with that feeling tremor in his voice, wbicli 
I always fancied I could hear when I read bis letters to 


THE MONTANAS. 


261 


Mary, in which he never failed to say, “ Take good care of 
papa’s little daughter.” Then we came and sat by her side 
as she lay sleeping. No more words now of storm and 
conflict. We felt that angels were on guard that night 
watching the soldier and his child. 

The following day was spent by us all at Ridgely ; the 
next with Stanley in her cottage home. During the after- 
noon I received a letter from Cousin Warren. He wrote 
briefly ; yet in the few sentences of commendation I felt 
how much Stanley, going on from day to day in her round 
of patient duty, claimed his reverence. He, from his stand- 
point, traced her path, and felt how nobly and firmly she 
walked in it. He sent some books from Paris for our joint 
perusal, and begged that we would not forget him. He 
spoke of his own land, and the hearts in it that were bleed- 
ing to the death, and how he longed to be at home. The 
letter bore date just one year from his visit to Waybum. 
That evening, as we sat together on the piazza at Uncle 
Kingswell’s — Raymond playing with his little daughter — I 
remembered how, in the first summer days, we had sat there 
with those two present who were absent now. One beyond 
the sea ; the other further off, beyond countless seas of 
ceaseless stiife. 

The next day brought Milverton to Ridgely. He in- 
quired for me ; on being informed that I was at the cottage, 
he sent down the letter he had brought. It was from Lane 
Austin. I afterwards learned how he obtained it ; hearing 
that Gerald was a prisoner at Washington, he visited him 
for the purpose of learning something of Clyde. On being 
told that Lane was probably the only person who could give 
him any information, he wrote at once. By the exercise of 
considerable strategy he succeeded in posting his letter, and 
obtaininor an answer addressed to me, which ran as follows : 


262 


THE MONTANAS. 


‘‘ I will dispense with preliminaries, Miss Aljean, in telling 
yon all I know concerning onr beloved Colonel Ingram. I will 
say nothing of the preference that you manifested for him 
when we were all at home. How long since I have had a 
home save in the field. It was enough, in the days of hard- 
ship, to realize how much more worthy of your esteem he 
was than I. Had it been the fullest measure of which your 
woman’s heart is capable, the boon was richly merited, for 
a braver man to work for country, for independence, and for 
God, I have never seen. But he is dead ! I saw our sol- 
diers weeping while they dug his grave in a Southern wil- 
derness. I can never express a tithe of what I felt in that 
bitter hour. I would have died to save him, for I loved 
him better than any one- else in the world ! — than my own 
brother, who pines to-day in a Northern prison. 

“ Our Colonel went himself with a small detachment on a 
scouting expedition. They remained absent so long I grew 
anxious, and went in search of them. I met some of his 
men returning to camp ! They reported a skirmish, in 
which the Colonel had been killed. I ordered them to pilot 
us to the spot where they had left him. It was difficult to 
keep the direction ; a heavy rain was falling ; we were at- 
tacked once and driven into our fortifications. We made 
another attempt, carrying a fiag of truce ; we determined, 
if possible, to recover the body of the Colonel at all haz- 
ards. So many delays were involved in the prolonged 
search, his face was unrecognizable ! The faces of all the 
fallen men were marred and discolored by the drenching 
rains. He lay near to his faithful steed — one which he al- 
ways rode when on his plantation ; the creature’s head was 
near his master’s shoulder. There, in a wilderness of green, 
the blue sky over him, dust below, our soldiers made his 
grave and fired their volleys over him ! I have seen many 


THE MONTANAS. 


263 


I fall, Miss Aljean, since that last evening at Claremont. I 
; have looked upon death in almost every form ! I have seen 
, it in camp, in fort and hospital, by the wayside and on 
. battle-fields ; have seen my near relatives — those who were 
, once possessed of thousands — starving for a crust, but 
I nothing ever afiected me like this ; he was my friend — 
i brother ; on the march and in camp we had faced death 
together. But the arch-enemy had come to him when I 
was not near to claim a parting pressure of his hand and 
i treasure his last words. It was hard to think there was no 
j kind voice to break the last, long silence, as it closed about 
I him.” 

^ I was glad no one was near me. It chanced that I was 
alone in Stanley’s little chamber. The grim eternal silence 
seemed closing about me, too ; iron bars were pressing on 
my heart ; oh, it was bursting. I was reeling, suffocating. 
I passed into the garden, found Stanley, gave her the letter ; 
she read it while I walked about recklessly crushing the 
autumn flowers under my impatient feet. Stanley wept, 
exclaiming in broken sentences : 

“ Poor Clyde, poor dear brother ! Oh, Jennie, I am so 
sorry that I sent him away that time, he seemed so solitary 
and desolate ; those whom he loved to him were stony- 
hearted. Oh, why did not you care for him and save him ! ” 
My heart grew hard as I looked upon her ; then I could 
speak the taunt, but not the anguish I felt : 

“ Stanley Montana, do not stand there mocking me ; do 
anything else you choose; pity me, for I loved Clyde 
Ingram., have done so for years and years ; loved him, and 
he loved me ; I shall go mad that I have lost him.” I 
threw myself upon the ground ; there, lying on the crushed 
flowers, I defied the smiting hand that had stricken him. 
Yes, God forgive me, in that bitter moment I uttered a 


264 


THE MONTANAS. 


tortuous malediction against tlie power that had bereft me. 
Mght came down with its cool dews from the fountain of 
His immutable love ; as they fell upon my thirsting soul 
tears came to my relief. As I lay there the autumn moon 
rose up — the moon that shone, and the autumn that dropped 
its leaves upon his distant grave. The heart of the universe 
had ceased to pulsate. His life-task was ended; he was 
gone from the canker that cuts into the soul with its slow 
charges and takes the bloom from life ; gone from the sud- 
den casualties, the sad possibilities and probabilities, which 
are but other names for the freaks of human destiny. 
Never more would they crash through his heart-strings with 
sudden desolation, as they had done through mine. He 
was sleeping, we were weeping. It was my cross in life, 
this death, and I must bear it to the end. The ponderous 
machinery of the universe crashed on as though he slept not. 

We were to have company in the evening; how much 
the seal which had hitherto set upon my lips and life aided 
me in crushing down the inward strife. I went into Stanley’s 
little bed-chamber, lay looking out of the window’^ upon the 
widespread busy universe, which held for me nothing save 
its category of grim silences. By-and-by I saw Raymond 
and Milverton coming ; how cheerful and indifferent they 
looked. 

Captain Montana wore the uniform of our country — the 
insignia which asserted grimly and vaunted to mj sick heart 
that he was the dead man’s enemy. For an instant I could 
not look down into the deeps where the old brotherhood 
rested pure, unsullied by passion or sectional prejudice. 
Now I only thought how two countries, whose widely dis- 
severed interests and aims had come between, and how one 
lay in his far-off sleep, with none to mourn him save the 
silent heart whose love for him was all untold. These 


THE MONTANAS. 


265 


thoughts were passing through my mind while I heard 
Raymond entreating one of their visitors, Miss Radway, to 
sing. I lay spell-bound, listening to the words : 

“ When our boys come home in triumph, brother, 

With the laurels they shall gain ; 

When we meet to give them welcome, brother, 

We shall look for you in vain.” 

Her voice was tremulous with intense pathos as she sang 
the closing half of the last stanza : 

“ Surely wo would not recall you, brother. 

Though our tears flow fast and free. 

When we think of you as sleeping, brother. 

Underneath that southern tree.” 

My heart melted as I looked at Raymond, who sat near 
the open door, for I saw a brother’s sorrow under the calm 
exterior of the soldier. “Where is Jennie?” he inquired 
suddenly; when Stanley answered him he came and sat 
beside my sofa, talking casually of many things. At length, 
vdth the air of one who had long evaded what must be 4 
faced, he spoke : 

“Jennie, Mary, and I will go to Washington to-morrow; 
will you bear us company ? ” After a pause he continued : 

“I am veiy sorry, Aljean ” the sentence was not con- 

cluded, for he saw how I shuddered as with the chill of 
that death. I think he now, for the first time, realized 
my love for Clyde Ingram. Notwithstanding my silent 
pain, which he felt as keenly as I did, he asked, while a beam 
came into his face : 

“And is it true, Jennie?” Yes, it was true; one of 
God’s truths, which time or change, death or eternity could 
not annul. Yes ! I would go with them; I told him so; 

12 


266 


THE MONTAKAS. 


I would see Gerald Austin myself, and inquire his brother’s 
address, which Lane had omitted to give me. 

The following morning found Raymond and Mary, Ala and 
myself, en route for the capital. We paused but a few hours 
in New York; grey mists lifted up their shadowy arms to 
salute the morning sun as it streaked the bosom of the 
Delaware while we crossed. Some Government boats were 
loosed from their moorings, and in the brooding stillness I 
heard workmen at the forge singing, Maryland, my Mary- 
land.” I thought then, as I have ever since, it was the 
finest lyric poem of the age. In those wild, wailing tones 
of appeal, I caught the enthusiasm which must have ani- 
mated many a heart to do and dare what those southern 
hearts have done for country and the love of it. 

We soon saw the glittering domes and spires of the capi- 
tal, bordered -with its broad white sheet of Potomac, be- 
yond which, upon the plains of Virginia, stood bulwarks of 
a nation’s strength, in an attitude of appeal to the god of 
victory. What was Washington grown to be ? From halls 
where strong-armed, calm-faced Justice was wont to rise 
and speak his mandates, to the inheritors of a common 
country, were heard now only the croaking voices of dema- 
gogues, who instantly set hard heels upon any white bud 
of peace that dared to lift its modest head, with timid 
promise of blossom, amid the strife. 

When we became settled at our hotel, I went with Ray- 
mond to seek Gerald. He obtained, through Captain Mon- 
tana’s numerous friends, admission to his prison. It was 
a strange interview ! He seemed as if he wished to talk of 
everything but what my heart most longed to hear. Yet 
in all he said, there were no broken sentences of repent- 
ance ; no regrets, no repinings — only a. sullen persistence 
in his political fallacy, through which shone a dogged spirit 


THE MONTANAS, 


267 


of resistance, whicli might be crushed but never wholly- 
extinguished, even wdthin the walls of a dungeon. He was 
kind, polite, respectful ; yet we could learn from him 
nothing more concerning Clyde’s death than we already 
knew. We failed even to procure Lane’s address, which 
was our diief design in going there. So we came back to 
Weyburn after our hopeless journey. As we recrossed 
the Delaware at night, the stars seemed to look down with 
a pitying radiance into the troubled abysses of my soul ! 
and I heard a voice which said to the lashing waves — 
‘‘ Peace ! be still.” 


o 

CHAPTER XIX. 

•*For what is life? at best, a brief delight; 

A sun scarce brightening ere it sinks in night : 

A flower at morning fresh, at noon decayed ; 

A still swift river gliding into shade.” 

During our visit, Ala had pined for the atmosphere of her 
own home. She seemed to grow weary of all things about 
her, and said she wanted to rest. When we brought her 
back she would lie ofttimes in her little bed so still that we 
grew alarmed. We began to devise means by which we 
could avail ourselves of medical aid, without having her 
suspect we thought her really ill. Accordingly, Raymond 
brought Dr. Berkley ; ostensibly to dine — really to admi- 
nister to our pet. She was a favorite with him, as she was 
with all who knew her. He laid her golden head against 
his cheek, adroitly examined her pulse, but his face gave 
no sign that he thought our darling in danger. We were 
reassured by his manner ; our chilly fears took once more 


268 


THE MONTANAS- 


the warm hue of hope; we caught the sunshine of the 
brief interval that was to elapse' before we must give her up 
finally. For this we were only waiting. 

Eaymond had made his preparations with a view to 
returning to camp. His leave of absence was already 
expired ; on the morrow he would go. 

The eve before his leave-taking, he and Mary had a little 
conference — half sad, half hopeful — about home concerns 
and Ala — how she would bear the blow. I left them and 
went down to the cottage. Crisp leaves were lying on the 
garden path, and the autumn sky hung down its banners 
of crimson which shone through the swaying trees, remind- 
ing one of altar-fires lifting up their everlasting incense to 
the Creator, gratefully. I thought how on distant fields, 
where the dead lay white and still, gleamed other banners, 
red with the gore of our hearts’ chosen idols. With these 
reflections pressing heavily, it was natural I should seek to 
avoid meeting Mr. Milverton, whom I observed coming up 
the path. I had special reasons for not wishing to see 
him, but there was no escape. We shook hands; then he 
said his say earnestly : 

“ I am very grateful. Miss Jennie, for this opportunity of 
seeing you alone before I return to New York. I have 
something which I must say, though you will doubtless 
think me a sorry old fool for having said it ; but I am tired 
of what the gay world calls pleasure ! I have money, 
friends, and health ; but I want a home of my own. I am 
just beginning to realize how dreadfully selfish a bachelor 
is. Now here I am, roaming round, while you, a little frail 
creature, are moping, growing pale, for want of somebody 
to nurse you up and care for you. I propose to do that ; 
I want you — your presence — in the home I shall make , 
want you here in my heart to still its cravings — to make 


THE MOKTAHAS, 


269 


me a better, nobler man than I am. Will you be my 
wife?” 

I raised my hand deprecatingly ! his words jarred pain- 
fully a sensitive chord in my sore heart, that would never 
again vibrate with tenderness for any man living. I an- 
swered him with energy, not a little amused despite myself. 

“ No, no, not your wife ! Why, Mr. Milverton, you do 
not know me, or rather you do not know yourself. You 
care no more for me than for five-and-twenty other young 
girls in your circle. I am as jealous by nature as a Blue* 
beard, and could never consent to occupy such a tiny nook 
in any man’s heart, especially yours. Large as it is, I should 
want the whole of it. Besides, do not want to marry me on 
account of my paleness ; I may transfer that to you when 
I tell you, that immediately on becoming mistress of your 
prospective home, I should resort to a vigorous use of my 
tongue, in order to induce you to abandon all your innocent 
amusements, such as balls, soirees y theatres, &c., and settle 
down demurely into quiet life. Then you would be com- 
pelled to stop flirting. One of the natural matrimonial re- 
sults is, that a man shall give up kissing all the pretty girls 
in his circle, even though that man were Mr. Milverton, a 
gay bachelor of thirty-five. See what a martyr you must 
necessarily become.” 

“ Now, now. Miss Jennie, I protest most solemnly. By 
the way, what has so suddenly sobered you? I have not 
forgotten a few seasons since you were the most inveterate 
coquette present at Nahant.” 

“ Ah ! my friend, the soul seems to have gone out of 
everything since then : the land is full of sorrow. I am 
desperately earnest now in all I say and do.” 

“ So am I. I design quitting all my bad practices — ^get- 
ting married, just for the novelty.” 


270 


TEE MONTANAS. 


“ Then let me inform you, that unless you have in the 
matter more genuine feeling than your tone and manner 
would suggest, matrimony will prove anything hut a novel 
performance.” 

“ I suppose you think one should he deeply in love — 
well, what is it ? Let me define love for you : It is a flame 
that burns itself out with the ardor of youth. Refined in- 
tercourse in a social circle will produce a comfortable state 
of amicable feeling. In some instances, we find those 
whose companionship is a source of rare delight, and con- 
fers upon us, as individuals, a happiness which all the 
world beside y^ould fail to supply. Beyond this there is 
little for men who have arrived at my age. I should 
give you as much tenderness, perhaps, as any of my 
sex.” 

“ Oh, I am thankful for the privilege of looking upon 
human nature from my own stand-point ! Throw away 
those spectacles, Mr. Milverton. Do not imagine all the 
world is looking through them, when it is only yourself. 
I am not yet so callous to the genuine attributes of man- 
kind, that I can afford to dispense with love in my union. 
I want that something — a presence vast enough to cover 
all the earth, and in one little space wRere it is not, I 
want to feel as if impenetrable darkness had settled ; a sen- 
timent which came from God with messages of a hope that 
may be eternal, alone, enduring as the stars. Then, though 
there may be long, sad farewells, and heart-tears never dry ; 
grim silences of death and separations that stretch through 
time to the white portals yonder, beyond those crimson clouds 
of sunset ; yet, too, there may be something beyond those 
broad slopes of the everlasting life, in that heaven which 
is love’s true abiding-place.” I checked myself suddenly, 
as I felt the red flash into my cheeks beneath Milverton’s 


THE MONTANAS, 


271 


gaze of pitying scrutiny. The question fell from his lips 
unconsciously : 

‘‘ Have you ever loved that love, Jennie, whose hope is 
here of fruition there ? ” 

“ Yes ; I did love ! My heart attests the truth ; it is 
over now. He walked through earth a king among men ; 
he is dead ! All the world cannot give me back what died 
with him. I have told you enough ; let the subject never 
recur between us.” I gave him my hand, over which he 
bowed in silent acquiescence, then left me. I saw him 
enter the gate at Ridgely ere I joined Stanley at the cot- 
tage. It was twilight ; the lamps were not yet lighted ; 
the glow of the wood-fire was upon Stanley’s cheek, and 
golden rings of hair broke like beams of sunlight through 
her net, and lay upon her dark dress caressingly. Those 
tresses of hers would not bear confinement; they were 
rebellious as her nature, for I saw tears upon her cheeks 
which told me that she wore not her harness patiently that 
evening. I gathered her head to my bosom and asked 
her why she wept. 

“ I was thinking, dear, what a strange and wayward fate 
has been ours ! Of that love of yours whose glory was hid 

in a tomb ; and mine . Oh, it is no light thing ! — the 

task of learning to live without some one to cling to, whose 
love is all your own. Do not interrupt me ; I am talking 
of nothing, want nothing that belongs of right to Warren 
Hayne’s wedded wife. But I do so often miss what was 
given me ; that which, but for the treachery of some, would 
have been mine.” 

“ I know, darling, you miss what should have been yours, 
and will do so more and more, as you go on through life. 
There are many in the world who care for us, more or less, 
but there are very few who really love us. Our mother 


272 


THE MONTANAS. 


did — our brother — be leaves us to-morrow. Ab, bere be 
is ; another farewell ! ” Ray sat with us some time, affect- 
ing to talk cheerfully, though it was plain to see how the 
soldier’s heart was bowed low; that the separation was 
inevitable. Of Ala he thought most of all. 

It will break her little heart to know that I am going. 
We must bring her down here. When she finds that I am 
really gone, you girls may be better able to pacify her than 
her mother. Poor Mary is herself so miserable. You will 
manage it, Jennie, wfil you not? I cannot bear to have 
her tom from me. This seems the only course left 
me.” 

“ Yes ; I will endeavor to do so, Ray, but you must pro- 
mise me that when your term expires, you will come home 
to stay. Ala needs you more than your country, just now.” 

“ Ah, that is a woman’s view of the case ! You would 
not make a good soldier, Jennie.” 

My face flushed; I saw he did not comprehend my mean- 
ing. I could not speak more plainly. I could not look 
that father in the face and teU him of the slow-breaking 
heart-strings of his only child, so I only answered : 

“ At all events, Raymond, should I send for you at any 
lime, come ; come quickly, at all hazards.” 

He promised then. As he was leaving the house he 
beheld a little white-winged something, that seemed to stir 
the moonlight, it was so light and airy, coming down the 
garden path. Raymond stopped still, breathless with sus- 
pense and anguish. As the figure came nearer we saw the 
white dress, falling hair, and spiritual face of Ala Ray; there 
was such tender love for him shining in every lineament of 
his daughter’s face as she exclaimed : 

“ Oh, papa, why did you not take me with you ? I have 
sought you everywhere. I have been so unhappy since you 


THE MONTANAS. 


273 


went, and left mamma crying dear — ^blessed mamma ; and, 
oh, your little Ala was so miserable.” 

“ Why, my little pet, do you think you could not get 
along without papa for a little while ? What would my 
darling do if I should go away again to stay ? ” 

She anwered musingly : 

“ I am sure I don’t know, though I think I should die ! ” 
Kay looked at me piteously, while the child glanced 
eagerly, apprehensively, from one to the other. She put 
her arms close about her father’s neck, nestled up to him, 
lying quite still, as if in pain, her breath coming hard 
between her set teeth. No one spoke, no one could just 
then. At length Kaymond said : 

“ My darling, your little dress is wet with heavy dew, 
you are cold, let aunty warm you and then put you in her 
bed until papa is ready to go home.” With a strange 
silence, and obstinacy entirely unnatural to her, she clung 
closely to her father, refusing to be moved. At length she 
said in a grieved tone : 

“ Papa, why did you ask me what I should do if you 
were to leave me again ? ” Raymond understood from ray 
face that he must tell her all about it. 

“Because, my darling, papa is compelled to rejoin his 
regiment He must leave you for a little while, but when 
the spring is here, and there are many flowers in auntie’s 
grounds, adown the pretty garden way, I will come and 
stay with you all the time ! ” 

There was no outburst, only she trembled a great deal, 
and the little face, down which the still tears trickled, 
seemed to grow momently whiter, more transparent ; faster, 
harder came her breath through the quivering lips. Seeing 
that Raymond was unable to articulate one word, we be- 
sought her, Stanley and I, to remain with us ; all in vain. 

12 =^ 


THE MONTANAS, 


274 

In answer to our entreaties, slie said in a choked voice, that 
surprised us for its calmness : 

‘‘ No, no, I cannot leave my papa to-night ! Now, auntie, 
do not take me from him at the last. If he must go, I will 
try and bear it as well as I can ! ” 

Oh, it was so touching ; the recognition of the exigency 
which separated them. Many a person who had grown 
saintly, resisting tribulations ; who, in the hard service of 
the world, had become inured to disappointment; might 
have learned a lesson from that child, in her patient accept- 
ance of what seemed inevitable ; of the sorrow which almost 
broke her little heart. Raymond recognised it, and exclaim- 
ed passionately : 

“ My brave, noble child ! you are more a hero than papa, 
little one ; and you shall stay with him as long as you can, 
and papa will come back to you very soon.” 

“ Before daisies blossom, papa ? and the grass grows green 
again in the old church-yard, and myrtle upon the rough 
sides of gilead trees, where the little birds build their nests 
in daisy times ? And you will think of your little daughter 
often when you go again to sleep under the stars ? ” 

“ Yes, yes, darling ! ” he answered, soothingly ; . “ and 
papa will write many letters to his little girl ; won’t that be 
nice ? ” 

“ But then, dear papa, you will not be here to romp with 
me in the morning times. I could bear to do without you 
through the long days, but in the evenings, oh, I shall want 
you so much ; how can I ever do without you ? ” 

Ah! he could not tell her that; the father, with his 
broken voice and sinking heart. He rose, saying he would 
take the child to her mother, passed out into the wan light 
of the autumn moon, hanging just above the garden path ; 
that home-way, where the summer flowers were faded and 


TEE MONTANAS. 


275 


leaves were lying crisp, o’er whicli an angel’s feet had come 
to guide him to the very portals where they should part, 
father and child, not to meet aga^n in an earthly spring-time. 
Not yet, not yet, the bright doors unclosed; why? the 
keeper’s hand was on the latch ; was there yet some mission 
unaccomplished ? Our hold of her seemed so frail that a 
breath might destroy it ; yet oh, how our hearty clung to 
that little shape, that was so fair and heavenly. 

Raymond was gone ! Mary being unwell I was installed 
chief nurse to Ala Ray. Often during the day she com- 
plained of being tired, and would lie for a long time in 
m}" arms — still, as if death was already upon her ; then she 
would start up and sing a little snatch of some song her father 
liked to hear. Then she would ask how long it would be 
until the daisies bloomed. Then settle herself as if she 
would try to wait patiently. Oh ! country, bleeding at 
every pore through these reeking days of sacrifice, there 
was nothing more hallowed laid upon thy altar than what 
that child gave to thee thus uncomplainingly — the joy of 
her father’s presence during those last days of hers upon 
the earth. Ah ! sweet Ala Ray ! There is no name for 
heroism like to thine ; but God has taken the struggle of 
thy little heart into strict account. Thy offering was to 
country and to him. Brighter even than the hero’s crown 
of glory shall shine thy white wreath of innocence in the 
father’s peace. 

Winter came, wrapping again its white arms around the 
habitations of this earth, tracking gently the graves of 
the summer flowers. There was no visible change in our 
pet, saving a constantly increasing languor, a gradual fail- 
ing of vitality, which was replaced by a pallor whiter, more 
transparent. I grew so accustomed to having her little golden 
head upon my breast, I missed her when she asked to be 


276 


THE MONTANAS. 


transferred to her own little couch, with its drapings of the 
bine she loved so well. It seemed she daily grew more 
cheerful, more considerate for those around her, and would 
often say : 

“Aunty, I am sure you must be tired holding me so 
long?” She was apparently unconscious that her light 
weight was no more than a pleasant burden to me. 

Leah Eldridge had lived with Mary during Raymond’s 
period of ser\dce. About this time Jamie, her little son, 
was attacked with a malignant fever. Ala would not rest 
hy day or night until the little boy was brought in and 
placed upon her own silken couch. I assumed the charge 
of watching them both one night, that Leah and Mary 
might both he rested. Jamie slept ; Ala lay quite still in 
my arms a long time, then started, turning her eyes upon 
me with a delight that was quite new and strange to her of 
late. “ What is it darling ? ” I asked. 

“ Did you not see them, auntie ; they came so near to 
you, their white wings almost touched your cheek, hold- 
ing out their hands to me, and I wanted to go with them 
for they were very lovely, auntie ; but then I thought of 
you and dear mamma, and how hard it w^ould be to leave 
you ; then that papa of mine came home, auntie darling, 
though the daisies were not yet bloomed. A tall, dark man, 
came with him ; it seemed as though I had seen him 
somewhere before; and they clasped hands, papa and he, 
and talked of peace; you looked so happy, and I heard 
such sweet music ! Oh ! auntie, I am sorry it was all a 
dream ; I should really love to go to that beautiful place.” 

My tears were fast falling as I pressed her closer to my 
heart trying to speak calmly, softly, that the mother might 
not hear ; but I could articulate no word of all that must 
be said. 


THE MONTANAS, 


277 


Auntie, you know how well I love you every one, but 
I think I must go there for a little while ; I shall come 
back to see you many times, and you will all be happy 
when I am gone, for you will know that I am happy in 
that beautiful place. Auntie, there will he no pain ihere^'* 
She unconsciously put her hand to her head ; I felt her 
pulse adroitly, and found she had fever. I administered a 
coolinsr drauixht, which was the most that could be done. 
During the afternoon she often said to me : 

“ Auntie, have you told mamma that I am going away by- 
and-by, where this pain can rest? Oh! if it could only 
sleep for a little time ! But I suffer so much.” I choked 
back the tears at such times, but rarely answered her. Oh ! 
how she suffered for many days! The eking out of that 
small remnant of vitality was indeed fraught with the ac- 
complishment of a great mission. Not yet, not yet, was 
the little frail bark borne outward to the eternal strand. 
Not yet was the bright door unclosed; not yet the little 
fingers swept the chords of a heavenly harp. 


-o- 


CHAPTER XX. 


** A truer, nobler, trustier heart, 

More loving or more loyal, never beat 
Within a human breast.” 

Byron’s Two Fosoaei, 


It came to pass in course of time that Jamie grew better, 
and during the days of his convalescence our darling was 
stretched upon a bed of death. Physicians, friends, and 


278 


THE MONTANAS. 


nurses by the score came and went with noiseless steps, but 
their errands availed naught for the little sufferer, who was 
happily unconscious of all. There was nothing in the every- 
day routine to break the stupor of our great grief. I went 
myself to the office and telegraphed for Raymond, when I 
found there was no hope of her lingering long. I stood at 
the gate a few moments on my return. A stranger trudged 
wearily by, taking the broad road to Ridgely. My heart beat 
quick. That form was like unto another’s, who had been 
bowed and stricken by a battle-blast 1 I was so agitated I 
found it necessary to recall a Southern grave, and the 
sleeper there, in order to cahn myself. As I entered the 
hall I could not avoid hearing the loud, harsh tones of Mrs. 
Seaman, who was in the reception-room holding solemn 
converse with some one concerning a very suspicious charac- 
ter who seemed to be entirely at home with the Kingswells. 
“ He had been there for upwards of a week, and was, in her 
estimation, a deserter from Lee’s army.” I passed boldly 
into the room. Mrs. Seaman started, blushed guiltily, and 
said deprecatingly : 

‘‘We came to ask if we should be permitted to see the 
little girl ; I hear she is much worse ; what a pity ! the 
father should be sent for. Of course you anticipate the 
worst results. In my experience this malady has invariably 
proven fatal, though it is a disease which takes a long time 
to kill. Well, I’m sorry for Miss Kingswell, she was so 
fond of the little thing, and as I said before, it’s a pity — if 
I could only see the mother — she’s a young creature — I 
might tell her some things.” 

“ Mrs. Seaman,” I exclaimed with vehemence, “ Mrs. 
Montana is very ill ? Upon her mother and myself, in her 
father’s absence, devolves the care of his child- I shall 
therefore assume the responsibility of denying you admis- 


THE MONTANAS, 


279 


sion to lier presence : you may sit here if you wish ; excuse 
me, I must go to Ala.” 

The little thing manifested no more consciousness of the 
blisters on her little temples than if they had been wisps of 
paper. She was sleeping soundly when I entered. The 
grandmother bade me go at once to the cottage to Stanley, 
who had been confined to the house for several days with 
a severe cold, and give her information to allay her imme- 
diate fear concerning our darling. I spoke words of com- 
fort to Mary, whose heart-cry was, “ Oh ! that Raymond 
was here;” then took my way down the garden-path, 
where the snow lay cold and white. I inquired if she had 
been to Ridgely recently ? She replied that she had not. 
A few commonplaces, and then I left her to return to my 
charge. A few rods from the cottage I met the mysterious 
stranger going there by way of our private road. I started, 
sprang forward with a sudden impulse, then retreated with 
an ejaculation, I do not now remember what it was ; I only 
know I found myself then and there face to face with Clyde 
Ingram I — him whom I mourned far off in his Southern 
grave. Had the dead really come back, or was he only the 
ghost of a former time standing there white and still before 
me ? He offered me his hand ; I could not take it, but 
gazed at him with wild, streaming eyes, until I saw the old, 
proud smile curling his bloodless lips, and heard his sar- 
castic tones ringing out chimes in that cold, winter day. 
Were we two doomed to misunderstand each other to the 
bitter end ? In truth, it seemed fated that we should do so. 

“ And so you will not give me your hand, Aljean ! Oh ! 
I have wished so much to see you ! though perhaps you do 
right to remind me that even the relations of friend and 
friend, existing between us when we parted, are changed 
now, very sadly. When wounded and left for dead upon 


280 


THE MONTANAS. 


the field, I failed to remember for a time the bitter truth ; 
I only thought it would soothe me to look upon your face 
once more : I forgot that you regarded me as a traitor. My 
country’s enemy I have been, and am still ! but yours — 
never ! not even when you tore my heart-strings by giving 
your love to another. No, I did not hate you then. He 
has been by my side, my faithful friend ever since I saw 
you last. I sympathize with you both, and regret your 
inevitable separation for so long. As for myself, I felt I 
must see you again : I have cheated death for that purpose ; 
I am here, and you scorn me ! What little is left of my 
possessions I bequeathe to you with my last blessing. I am 
no longer proud, Aljean, hut you are. This very instant we 
must part, never to meet any more. I shall go my way 
now, you have heard my bequest — farewell.” 

“ Stay !” I almost screamed ; “ I do not comprehend one 
half that you say, Clyde Ingram; but the strange fierce 
tides of mingled joy and sorrow surging through my heart 
and brain threaten to unhinge my reason. You must not, 
shall not go. What you have been, I know : what you are, 
I care not. I have things to tell you you will think strange 
to hear : but not now — not to-day ; little Ala Ray — Ray- 
mond’s child — is dying ! come with me to her : I cannot 
stay away longer, and I do not want to leave you here.” 
So saying, I catched his hand and kissed it with burning 
lips: a strange, beautiful light seemed breaking over his 
wan face, but it darkened into a frown when he remem- 
bered all things, for he said : 

“ No, no, I cannot go there! that is why we have not met 
before to-day. I shall see Stanley — I was going there 
when I saw you.” I gave him my hand ; his face had re- 
sumed its wonted expression of bitter patience : he held my 
fingers tightly in his clasp with a look that said, I still 


THE MONTANAS. 


281 


must wait ; then went his way to the cottage. Once more 
in my own room. I knelt and thanked God fervently that 
the great seal of silence which sat upon those years, a hope- 
less hope, was broken at last : even though death should set 
another more enduring on his lips, it would not be cruel as 
the first. 

Three laggard days, slowly dragging through their 
weight of suspense and anguish, had passed, yet we waited 
still the opening of the golden doors and the passing of 
Ala’s soul beyond. On the noon-time of the fourth she 
awoke from her death-like stupor. I wrote a few words 
upon a slip of paper addressed to Clyde, and sent Jamie 
with it to Kidgely. 

When the beautiful eyes of the child unclosed from their 
trance-like slumber, she saw her father, who knelt beside 
her in his great anguish. With one last effort she twined 
her thin arms about his neck, kissing and talking softly in 
her sweet caressing tones, as though he had never been 
away. Mary was almost wild with joy when she heard the 
loved voice still so long. Oh ! we could none of us realize 
that our darling was going, even when her breath grew 
short and quick in sudden gasps. As for the father, his 
soul seemed wrenched from him ; his hope, joy, life almost, 
had been hung on that little frail thing. He exclaimed 
wildly — 

“ Oh ! my child, my Ala, do not, do not leave me.” 

A dark figure crept into the room unobserved, and knelt 
reverently upon the opposite side of the little couch. 

“ See ! see, papa, that dark man — I saw him in my 
dream.” Raymond lifted his eyes when he heard that 
angel voice. A frown heavy, terrible, like a gathering tem- 
pest, followed his swift recognition of Clyde. 

“Take his hand, dear papa; he loves you — I am sure he 


282 


THE MONTANAS. 


does ; a bright, beautiful angel told it to me.” Slowly the 
gloom cleared away from that father’s brow : then there 
came upon his face a bright, brief gleam of the old brother- 
hood, mingled with unspeakable surprise. By one joint, 
God-given impulse, the brother hands met and clasped over 
the little form, and with her last sight she saw that it was 
so Then a glorious brightness came upon her little face, 
and the sinking sun poured its red floods into the chamber. 
Wide open flew the pearly doors of the New Jerusalem: 
all the heavenly harps were attuned ! angels chanted the 
triumphal chorus when the little spirit passed therein. 

What conqueror, even though his blood-stained wreath 
of victory was dearly bought, had done what this sinless 
child, with only her little, loving heart to prompt her, and 
God to point her mission out, had accomplished ! She had 
abridged floods of sectional hatred, and with her small, 
weak hands, had drawn together two brother hearts, wide 
asunder as the stars ! Her reward was well begun. But 
oh ! for us, with our darling gone, woe, misery unuttera- 
ble ! we felt it in all its length and depth and breadth as 
silently we knelt there, until the last tinge of color faded 
from the western heaven : then in the grey of descending 
twilight we saw the wan whiteness of death upon the little 
face smiling to us sweetly through its pallor. The portals 
closed after her, and we with our great sorrow were left all 
alone in the darkness of the night. 

We will not linger upon the days that followed, the 
nights of watching, and the funeral. Once, strong man as 
he was, the father’s tears fell like rain, when, as his idol was 
being borne slowly down the garden-way to the church- 
yard, he saw a few modest daisies struggling to blossom in 
the snow: she loved daisies, and they seemed waiting to 
salute her as she passed. God’s Angers had gathered one 


THE MONTANAS, 


283 


daisy ere the grass grew green and the myrtle upon the 
gilead sides where the birds sang blithe in spring-time. 

“ See, J ennie, it has all come to pass as she said ; I am 
here : but she — oh ! would that I had not been forced to 
tear myself away from her when she was so soon to leave 
me alone ! ” 

Gathered by that little grave-side, Mr. Kingswell’s voice 
uprose in prayer ; a prayer so fraught with« faith, so blent 
and tremulous with ’hope — so frail and yet so strong, it 
seemed to lay hold on the eternal throne. Then, like drop- 
ping water or falling leaves in autumn, came the lulling 
spell-like words that told of resignation which was inevita- 
ble. We took up our burdens of life again and went back 
to the lonely house, where, in many yesterdays, she had 
been with us : but now it would be so no more. It was 
long before our darling’s footprints faded from the starry 
homeway o’er which she passed to God. 

For a week after Ala’s death, Eaymond was confined at 
home by the illness of his wife, during which time Clyde 
Ingram had never once left Ridgely. Stanley had resumed 
her school duties ; and I vibrated, as usual, between brother 
and sister. I was with Stanley when Mrs. Seaman called 
to express her virtuous indignation that Mr. Kingswell 
should entertain a renegade nephew, who had borne arms 
against his country ; which sentiment, she avowed, was 
shared by the community at large ; the expression of which 
had been prevented, or rather delayed, on account of the 
calamity which had befallen the household. I drew my 
breath hard, with a bitter sense of outrage, while I listened 
to the animadversions of this fractious woman, upon the 
character and acts of those, “the latchet of whose shoes 
she was not worthy to unloose.” I thought of Ala, became 
calm and subdued. There are many like Mrs. Seaman in 


284 


TEE MOyrTANAS. 


the world ; one must leani, sooner or later, to deal with 
them leniently ; so I did ; just as though, with profane feet, 
she walked not into the sanctuary of our sorrow. 

Miss Phoebe came from Ridgely, bearing a note address- 
ed in the clear chirography of Clyde’s uncle. She had 
gone daily, since his visit to the cottage, to see the boy 
who was the apple of her old eyes. Without asking to be 
excused, I hazily perused the lines which summoned us 
three to his side. My heart sank down with a new appre- 
hension. I bade Miss Phoebe hasten dinner, that we might 
go immediately. Mrs. Seaman took her place at the table, 
so anxious to learn something more concerning the subject 
which lay nearest her heart. . 

‘‘ I presume you are going to see that young man ? ” 

“Yes, madam, I certainly shall not fail to meet my 
adopted brother. Col. Ingram, whom we all esteem ; despite 
his position, an honorable gentleman ! ” 

The old lady was completely nonplussed ; something in 
my manner suddenly checked her propensity to be inquisi- 
tive concerning a matter in which our family alone should 
have become involved. 

To do the old lady justice, I must say she was not bad- 
hearted in the main ; only meddlesome, sometimes. Of 
late, she had been particularly gracious to Stanley ; had 
sought her society in many instances. I think the manner 
in which that young girl had gone on in her quiet round 
of patient duty-doing, commanded her respect, as it had 
won homage from those who had formerly denounced 
her so fiercely. Mrs. Seaman was the mouth-piece of the 
Way burn social circle ; when its heart warmed towards 
Stanley, she was the first to admit they had wronged her, 
and to ask of the young girl toleration and forgiveness. 
Stanley was grateful for this change, since it increased her 


THE MONTANAS. 


285 


capacity for usefulness in the community; grateful, too, 
that her friends were no longer submitted to humi- 
liation for her sake. Now she enjoyed a favoritism 
stronger in proportion than had"* been the original 
persecution. 

When Stanley came home at noon-time, we three took 
i silently our way to Kidgely. I had not been there since 
winter had settled cold and bleak around the great square 
house. Now there were no wreathings about window or 
colonnade ; only a few daisies, struggling with the snow, 
like the hope that was in my heart. 

The excitement of meeting us all once more, of coming 
back to the haunts of his childhood, had borne Clyde up 
wonderfully for a fortnight ; now this prop had failed him. 
He lay, white and still, with lines of suffering about his 
mouth, though his eyes were clear and un dimmed. The 
marked change struck me dumb, when we were ushered 
into his presence. He feebly held out his hand ; I pressed 
it to my lips ; his head fell forward on his breast in the 
effort to rise ; it was then I saw, what I had not before 
known — the ghastly wound, his bright hair stained with 
gore. My soul grew sick within me ; then I realized how 
much I had scarce consciously counted upon his recovery. 
I signed Clyde’s uncle to come with me to the parlor, and 
teU me all that he feared; there is ho agony like sus- 
pense. 

“ It is a fearful wound — ^by mere chance has he escaped 
death until now. The skull is broken ; we fear concussion 
constantly ; then the pressure is at times so great as to 
produce delirium. Poor boy, he is well aware of his danger. 
Be calm ; any outburst may bring on the result we dread 
so much.” 

I could not speak, but pressed his hand, and returned to 


286 


THE MONTANAS. 


Clyde. By tacit consent they all withdrew, leaving us alone 
together. I held my breath, that I might not lose one 
syllable of what he uttered : 

“Ah! Jennie, all my hopes and schemes in this world 
"have come to naught; life is a failure. I promised my 
sainted mother I should achieve something in the conflict 
with it; but I could not. Now I shall take my place with 
the rank and flle of an army that is gathering fast, silently ; 
we shall never more be placed on duty in mortal conflict. 
For me the service will soon be over ; the solitary ship has 
long drifted o’er the blood-red tides, gleaming through this 
dark night of strife, without rudder or compass to steer it 
towards the port beyond. You could not love me, Jennie ; 
yet you alone will be near me when I cast my anchor over 
the boundary line. Behold 1 light is breaking yonder on 
the further strand, with its calm white swelling slopes of 
peace. I once thought you loved Hayne ; then again. Lane 
Austin ; now I think neither one nor the other, yet fear to 
ask you the question I should have asked you long ago. 
Read to me from the book my mother loved; ah, would 
that I had loved it too 1 ” 

I knew not where I read, for through the mist of falling 
tears I could not readily see my way ; but he seized upon 
one sentence : “ What is bound upon earth, shall be bound 

in heaven.” 

“Jennie, I asked you a question once; I told you the 
answer was for all time. That, now, is a myth 1 fate and 
death are narrowing down the brief space that is left to us. 
I have a few more days of life, then a higher hand shall 
open wide the doors of my souks prison. Now I repeat 
that question 1 not for this little span of days, but for all 
eternity must the answer be. Have you ever loved?” 
Truly souls are laid bare by death, the lashing scourge of 


THE MONTANAS. 


287 


mortality. My voice was clear as ttie sounding roll of some 
far victory, when I said : 

“ Clyde, I have loved some one for long years, patiently, 
hopelessly, silently. Ever since you came to me in the 
light of a morning long ago by the golden river side, in 
our youth — I have loved you.” 

For a long time his great joy was still, then it found voice : 

“ Ah ! I see it all now ! How much of suffering had 
been spared me if this glorious truth had been revealed ere 
I came to stand upon the failing sands of another shore — 
another river gliding near — and I, a battle-scarred soldier, 
will soon pitch my tent upon the further side. Yet I sol- 
emnly swear of the world of women I have loved you — only 
you — and have sought or cared for none other. How I 
have waited and longed for this day of final triumph ! Now 
I ask you to let the answering love which you this hour 
avow, stand revealed in sight of God and man ; be mine ! 
give me leave to hope that I may claim you in the life to 
come : in the great peace in which friend and enemy shall 
stand side by side again.” He held out both his hands to 
me ! Over the great abyss which before had seemed to sepa- 
rate us, I saw a bridge of flowers. To our lives of patient 
waiting death had brought a rich reward, the breaking up 
of those great immutable silences whose chains had bound 
us in their thraldom. I promised to be all that he wished ; 
by that bed of dissolution I knelt in union with him. The 
tocsin sounding his release from an earthly prison, and the 
roll-call of heaven, were our marriage bells ! the peal and the 
poean of our wedded lives on earth — in death. Grand and 
glorious over the everlasting hills of Zion shone the promise 
that he would be mine for all eternity, who had been mine 
for one short hour here. No fate should henceforth blot 
out the memory of this one blissful truth. 


288 


THE MONTANAS. 


As I knelt the full tides of the winter’s sun, reddening as 
he sank, came in at the casement and wrapped us in its 
beams. My eyes wandered from terrace and spire to the 
far New Hampshire hills, with a coronet of sunbeams about 
each crest, and the bright river which ran at their feet. 
The current ran golden ’neath the floods of light, streaming, 
it seemed, through a wide, open door in the heavens. Now, 
as I look back into the fading long ago, receiving the full 
glory of that hour, I can count still the pulses of eternity 
that throbbed in it. 

To us, tried and purged as we had been, death would be 
no barrier, only a little longer waiting the fruition of hopes 
upspringing in life’s sunset hour. By eternity’s brink we 
stood, Clyde holding my hand very tightly, while the sun 
sank lower. The sands were falling, and the golden river 
gliding on, on, bearing to a swift, sure end, his frail rem- 
nant of vitality. 

Thus they found us when Raymond, who had been sum- 
moned at Clyde’s request, came up a short time afterwards. 
There by his side I kept my place while on earth he had 
need of me ; we propped him up with pillows while he 
spoke to Raymond of what lay heaviest on his heart— 
bravely, fearlessly. 


• 0 - 


THE MONTANAS. 


289 


CHAPTER XXL 


“ Death is the crown of life : 

Were this denied, poor man would live in vain. 

Death wounds to cure : we fall, we rise, we reign ; 

Spring from our fetters — fastened to the skies. 

Where blooming Eden withers from our sight, 

This king of terrors is the prince of peace.” 

Young’s Night Thoughts. 


“ Raymond, my brother, after all that has passed, we cannot 
meet as enemies in these last days of mine upon the earth. 
We learned our first lessons in life together, sheltered ’neath 
the same roof-tree. We have been friends from boyhood, 
yet are we bound by a still brighter link than this — it was 
woven by an angel’s fingers — your child’s. Notwithstand- 
ing all this, in obedience to the dictates of the powers you 
serve, by the authority vested in you, I am your prisoner I 
I have borne arms against the government whose loyal sub- 
ject you are, whose protection I dare not claim ! Do with 
me as you will. For the sake of all that has been and is, 
shrink not from your duty.” 

Raymond was fearfully pale, now that the issue, so long 
dreaded, was really come. He said not a word ; only trem- 
bled visibly, as though the struggle between duty and the 
old love raged strong within him. It was evident these 
necessities had asserted themselves before, but his angel 
had joined their hands together. Must the pleading love 
of his dead child be set aside, and no shelter extended to 
his brother in his hopeless helplessness ? 

Clyde saw his struggle, and essayed to speak, with his 
thin hand resting on my bowed head. 

“You have never asked me, brother, why I have subjected 
you to this fearful test. I had something I felt I must say 

13 


290 


THE MONTANAS. 


to this poor child. I was left for dead within the enemy’s 
lines ; I had nowhereielse to go ; I did not pause to inquire 
whether or not I would be an unwelcome guest in the house 
of my old friend ; or that you, who had been reared in the 
home of my father, should feel it to be your sacred duty 
to send me forth an outcast, or retain me as your prisoner. 
When I came to Ridgely I did not expect to die here; I 
thought it would all be over ; I should have said my say, 
and gone my way long since — ^this feverish wound has 
proved too strong for me. In the first instance, I meant 
only to remain here a few hours ; but for the illness of the 
child, I should have completed my errand in your absence. 
Now, since I have told you why I am here, I will tell you 
how it came to pass. 

“ Oh ! it was a fearful contest, that preceding my fall ; 
the men fought grandly on both sides. I have led my 
braves through many a gauntlet of Federal shot and shell, 
but never were their breasts bared to volleys like those. A 
ball struck my horse ; I fell with him ; the wound on my 
head is a sabre cut, which left me entirely insensible. I 
wore no uniform, consequently I was left with the heaps of 
dead and dying on the slaughter-ground. The last thing I 
remember was my faithful horse laying his head upon the 
shoulder of the orderly who always groomed him when in 
camp, who lay dead by my side. Twenty days later. Col. 
Austin found them thus, man and beast ; hence the sup- 
position of my death. How long I lay unconscious I know 
not ; when I awoke, as from a trance, there was a woman, 
stately and beautiful, bending over me ; she assisted me to 
her carriage, then conveyed me to a house near at hand. 
It was Retta Austin, the Colonel’s sister. During the reign 
of Gen. Butler, the family had removed to their plantation 
in Georgia. She informed me that Gen. Johnston had 


THE MONTANAS. 


201 


breakfasted there the morning upon which I left camp, pro- 
claiming in angry tones the sentence ^which awaited me for 
having disobeyld orders, and pursued the foe to what he 
foresaw would be certain destruction. Retta was well 
aware a court-martial awaited me should I return to my 
allegiance, even were such a thing possible, with the whole 
of Sherman’s army between them and me. She therefore 
set about preparing a complete disguise, which I adopted ; 
then insisted upon my appropriating enough of her gold 
to insure me an unsuspicious passage North. Of course I 
am very much obliged to her for her kindness, though I 
believe the girl is half demon. She vaunted her hatred for 
the Yankees in a manner that quite surprised me. She 
even boasted of having broken the engagement between 
Stanley and Hayne. Her treachery has been amply repaid 
by the restless misery which consumes her now. 

“ I paused nowhere by the way, until I found myself at 
Montreal. There I lay prostrate for months, gradually 
growing more wasted. I asked my physician to tell me 
frankly what I might depend upon. He informed me I 
had not weeks to live. I motioned him to leave me, rose 
at once to prepare for my journey hither. You know the 
rest. 

“ Upon leaving Claremont you remember my regiment 
was encamped at Brightland. I received what I considered 
an excellent cash offer for my city property. I sold it to 
prevent an ultimate transfer to strangers. Claremont with 
its flowers and fountains, blue sky and distant stretch of 
sea, was purchased by an old friend of our family. He was 
a distinguished rebel ; his property was confiscated and has 
since been converted into a barracks for the soldiery. If I 
had not sold it just when I did the loss would have been 
ours. Brightland I retained. Here is a deed, Raymond, 


292 


THE MONTANAS. 


executed two years ago. Briglitland is yours ! You can 
claim it sliould we ever have peace again. The gold for 
which I sold Claremont and its helongings-^horses, furni- 
ture, conservatory, all things partaining thereto, amount- 
ing to fifty thousand dollars — you will find at Bright- 
land. The old female servants, including Aunt Dinah and 
Hawsy, are there still ! They are true, and will show you 
where the money is buried. Though for fear they may 
have been removed, I will give you a plot of the ground 
containing the deposit. Sand-banks are the only banks 
which in seasons of war do not discount their paper, 
more especially when the deposits are all in specie currency. 
Now I have said all I wish to say, nothing remains but the 
exercise of the power vested in you ; you are my execu- 
tor. See to it that the girls are put in possession of this 
money, and that it is properly invested for their future 
needs. I am your prisoner ! If you fail to claim me as such 
I must go elsewhere to die ; I cannot think of subjecting 
you to the censure — punishment perhaps — which an omis- 
sion of this nature must necessarily bring upon you.” 

Raymond was agonized beyond expression ; Clyde’s con- 
sideration for him was so delicate, his generosity so great, 
even as his enemy his brotherly afiection so strong! It 
would be worse than traitorous to set aside all these con- 
siderations and put the law in force. How could he do 
what it seemed needful to do? Why was this horrible 
alternative between duty and the old brotherhood pre- 
sented? When I looked upon Clyde’s pale face I could 
only exclaim : 

“ Oh I Raymond, you will not, you cannot do this thing. 
You say that Clyde is unchanged ; when leagues divided 
you, you felt him to be your enemy. Now that you have 
ceased for the time being to view things from a national 


THE MONTAKAS. 


293 


stand-point — ^have allowed individual issues to assert them- 
selves — you know that he has never been so in reality ; that 
what you and he feel as representatives of belligerent sec- 
tions, affects very little those natural ties which are stronger 
than life itself That no conjuncture of circumstances 
could ever make you less to each other than you now are. 
Then wherefore exists a necessity for this thing ? ’’ 

Oh ! if, instead of the calculating heads which plan and 
prosecute this ^war, the bleeding hearts of the revolution 
were permitted to assert themselves, and obey the sweet 
promptings of affection, in the opinion of those who suffer 
peace would not be long in coming. Lips, now hopelessly 
mute, might give utterance to their wild prayers ; and the 
hero hands that supplicate so dumbly while striking inevi- 
tably those round whom their heart-strings fondly twine, 
might give heed to the clamorings of voices louder than 
the clarion notes of triumph. I speak of the many who 
suffer for the crimes of those who deserve to suffer. Ray- 
mond left the room, but returned presently with the war- 
worn banner he had held at Fredericksburg. 

“ Clyde, I would give all I possess to-day to have you 
share our hospitality under the folds of this old flag, as a 
friend to the country, whose symbol it is. Like yourself, 
my brother, its days of service are over, but we retain and 
love it still. You have poured your volleys into it while 
we held fast the standard in many a flerce charge ; but of 
this we will not think to-day. Give homage to the old 
banner during the remnant of your life, brother; be the 
prodigal of our household! Receive our blessing and 
God’s joint birth-right to a higher inheritance than you, 
in your noble generosity, have conferred upon us.” 

Clyde answered him, speaking very sorrowfully : 

“You will, perhaps, discredit my words, though I tell 


294 


THE MONTANAS. 


you solemnly, brother, I have no feeling of hatred for our 
common country ; and I love that old flag for the many 
times that I have seen it proudly waving over the whole 
land, and from the mast-head of ships in which we crossed 
seas toirether, thouo:h I cannot in honor now swear 
fidelity to that which I have desecrated by raising my hand 
to strike it in the dust. I was in the Southern army be- 
cause circumstances rendered it imperative that I should be 
there. My lot was cast with them. I have fulfilled my 
destiny. I do not feel myself to be a coward ! And not 
to save my own life, or to spare pain to those I love, would 
I skulk behind an assumption of loyalty which my acts 
have already disproved.” 

Kaymond said no more on the subject; though they 
talked almost gaily of the time that was long past and the 
days that were ended. 

Clyde waited ; Raymond struggled with his stern duty 
and his sorrow. .One Sabbath morning, warm and balmy 
in March, we sat with open casements listening to the 
Way burn bells. The sun shone brightly without, and in 
our two hearts was joy unspeakable. Oh ! it was so bliss- 
ful to be beloved. Clyde drew me to him, saying : 

“ God is very good to us, Jennie.” A closer nestling in 
his fragile clasp was my only answer ; there was a glamour 
in the air about me ; I thought I was dreaming, when I 
heard voices inquiring for Mr. Kingswell in tones that were 
loud and harsh. They were shown into the library adjoin- 
ing ; the door was slightly ajar, we could hear plainly all 
they said. 

‘‘You have not been to church for many weeks ; why is 
this ? ” inquired the deacon, Mr. Seaman, who had a cold 
in his head and talked through his nose most woefully, Mr. 
Kingswell replied in tones that were courteous yet firm : 


TEE MONTANAS. 


295 


“ During the illness of my little grandchild, my Sabbath 
services were given almost exclusively to her ; later, I have 
had with me a relative who is so ill as to require my con- 
stant care. I think, Mr. Seaman, our first duty to God lies 
in these ministrations to our sufiering fellow-men.” 

“ It is evident you feel so, sir ; perhaps you are right ; 
as for myself, I cannot exactly appreciate humanity exer- 
cised at the expense of Christian principle.” 

“ Excuse me, sir, I do not understand you ; be kind 
enough to speak plainly. In the exercise of these holy du- 
ties I do not feel that I have made any sacrifices of princi- 
ple, or failed in my duty to God.” 

“ Let him alone : he is joined unto his idols ! ” exclaimed 
Elder Bridgewater, in guttural tones resembling distant 
thunder. “ Come away, he will not hear us ; he is wed- 
ded to his sin.” I grew blind and sick at heart ; remem- 
bering the conversation of Mrs. Seaman on one or two 
occasions, I knew to what the self-righteous Pharisee re- 
ferred. 

“ I do not understand you, gentlemen ; of what am I ac- 
cused 1 ” 

“A few minutes since you did not deny having that 
man, that spy, that double traitor, Colonel Ingram, here 
under your own roof ; and gave your care of him as an 
excuse for your omissions in the Church of God. Now 
you ask hypocritically, of what am I accused ? ” 

“ I certainly never meant to deny the fact that my 
nephew is here under my roof, and will remain here while 
he lives. Be he what he may, or rather what he might 
have been. Colonel Ingram is, I fear, fatally wounded, and 
beyond the power of harming any one.” Mr. Kingswell’s 
fearless avowal of these facts somewhat surprised them, and 
disarmed, in a measure, their malignity ; at all events they 


296 


THE MONTANAS. 


were slow to speak again. At length, the pompous old 
elder, whose main characteristics were sanctity, gold spec 
tacles, ebony cane, voice grim and guttural, with much tug- 
ging at his neck-tie, delivered himself as follows : 

“ Notwithstanding all you say, Mr. Kingswell, painful as 
it may he, we have our duty to perform. The church had a 
called meeting yesterday evening, and they appointed a com- 
mittee of two to wait upon you at your residence and in- 
form you of the proceedings of said meeting. What I have 
to say is this. Unless you expel from your domicil that 
traitor, from your bosom that serpent, you will be accused 
before the Church of God, and your fault dealt with in no 
very lenient manner. Now, by the holy Church whose in- 
terests you have served, of which you have long been a 
consistent member, ponder well what I have said — let it 
weigh ” 

“ Just this far, gentlemen, no further. I have, as you 
say, lived long in the Church ; I should regret that anything 
should come to mar the harmony of my life there ; yet I 
have ever been influenced by a higher authority than the 
law and creed of said Church. I have come this day to feel 
as I felt once before, that an edifice claiming to be the 
sanctuary of God may possess external evidence, but 
nothing of the spirit of the Great Master, who cast, as you 
did, no stone at the erring, whom you would not have 
bidden as He did, to ‘go and sin no more.’ You would 
drive such not only from the world’s clemency, but from 
God’s. Is your spirit consistent with that of true Chris- 
tianity, manifested by the old patriarch, who killed the 
fatted calf when his prodigal returned ? Is there any room 
in your heart, filled full of altars reared to the God of the 
upright, for the weary wanderer who perchance would lay 
aside his sin and come back to the forsaken way, were youi 


THE MONTANAS. 


297 


strong hands but outstretched to receive him ? any room 
for the exercise of that justice, which ‘ as ye m^te to others 
shall be meted unto you again ? ’ any charity for the unre- 
pentant transgressor for whom a God died ? If within His 
tabernacles on the earth I stand condemned for what I 
have done and am doing, then deal with me as you like : 
my conscience sustains me ; to a higher tribunal will I ap- 
peal. God is not only just, and kind, and loving ; he has 
not closed the doors of his great heart upon those for whom 
the way and the warfare proved too much. I have done. 
May the Father in his mercy strengthen and sustain me ! ” 

Ah ! and he will, dear noble heart. Here was manifest 
the spirit which all my life I had recognised and worshipped 
in Clyde’s uncle. The high moral integrity which ever 
characterized his dealings with his fellow-men, was nothing 
compared to his soul of justice and charity. I crept close 
to him, kissed his hand reverently, then led him to where 
Clyde lay, calm-faced, patiently awaiting. He, too, looked 
and spoke proudly the man that was in him. 

“Uncle, I am glad for the trial that has come to you, 
and the noble words that I have heard you speak. I am 
enabled now to see my way and duty clearly ; no false 
scruples of honor shall deter me from the performance of 
that duty. As regards the great crime for which I stand 
condemned, I leave that to God. May my transgression 
be blotted out by this return to my allegiance. Send for 
my brother, his wish shall be respected ; in due form will I 
swear to support the old flag ; and ere I die we will shake 
hands once more under its starry folds.” 

Long and sweet was the conference that ensued. Thus 
came peace to our household. Sweet Ala Kay, what had 
not thy blessed influence accomplished ! 

Long protracted had been the struggle with duty in 
18 * 


298 


THE MONTANAS, 


Raymond’s heart ; he could not bring himself to arrest Clyde ; 
his brother should be permitted to die in peace, even 
though he suffered court-martial for the omission. 

He had promised his little daughter he would come home 
to stay when the daisies bloomed ; he sent on his resigna- 
tion, which was accepted previous to the expiration of his 
term of service. 

His gratitude was boundless when he learned the purpose 
for which he was summoned a second time ; his banner had 
spoken for him ; his country was vindicated ; so was his 
brother. . 

Not so, however, in the estimation of those self-righteous 
men who had expostulated with Mr. Kingswell in the 
morning. They returned at nightfall, with a detachment 
of home guards from a neighboring town, and demanded 
that Col. Ingram should be delivered up to them. Ray- 
mond, strangely moved, advanced to the leader, with drawn 
sword, bade him halt and await his commands. Messrs. 
Seaman and Bridgewater, from the rear, made use of some 
impatient and rather unchristian-like expletives, which, 
however, availed them little. Thus they kept guard until 
morning. 

Within — ah ! within, the man’s spirit was leaving its 
clay ; peacefully, gently, as the child who went before, his 
soul passed away. All night we watched, until the morn- 
ing ; then there was only the white face of the dead, and 
the morning of a new life. Very calmly he slept the pale 
sleep, and we spread the old flag over him as he lay 
there. 

“Gentlemen,” said Ra3anond, in a harsh, stern voice^ 
advancing a second time to where the guard stood waiting, 
“ allow me to conduct you to the prisoner.” 

They came into the death-chamber, followed by the 


THE MONTANAS. 


299 


deacon and the elder, who looked so abashed and crest- 
fallen, it was piteous to behold them. 

“Gentlemen,” continued Raymond, “this little handful 
of dust is what you have been warring with for days and 
weeks ; bring your ‘streng*th to bear upon it ; scatter it to 
the winds ; he was a traitor, but one who came, when death 
pressed him hard, to clasp the hand of his mother’s son, 
and die under the folds of the old flag. When you have 
satisfled yourselves, you may withdraw ; this prisoner whom 
you sought is my comrade and brother; with the honors 
of war he shall be buried.” 

And thus was buried Clyde Ingram, of Claremont. 


0 - 


CHAPTER XXII. 

“’Tis morning again on the tents and the spears, 

But the soldier’s voice is for ever still — 

There’s a form that is missed from our cavaliers ; 

There’s a sweet face blurred with its bitter tears ; 

There’s a new-made grave on the hill.” 

CoL. Hawkins, C. S. A. 


This wail kept ringing through my heart, low and plain- 
tive as the voice of spring, which came not as our South- 
ern springs; true, the dun skies cleared into blue, birds 
sang, and flowers upsprang at the sunbeam’s touch, yet 
there was in the air a haze as of slow falling tears ; broken 
wreaths of snow lay on the new-made graves long after we 
counted the pulses of coming warmth; until the slopes 
were green, and verdure clothed the far New Hampshire 
hills, and distant fens gathered mossy sprays. I thought 
how the cypress bloomed in coral clusters in our far-off 


300 


THE MONTANAS. 


Southern home, while we gathered their black garlands in 
another land. Where were the orange blossoms on our 
home shore, from which the gulf rolled waves of green to 
a wide, wide reach of sea? Alas! neither of us would 
ever wear one little wreath of the bright symbols that had 
grown about our youth. Stanley’s white wreath — another 
had worn it; my garland was of cypress. To us were left 
only memories of the days that had been ; that would be 
no more ; and — 


OUR DEAD. 

“ Nothing is our own ; we hold our pleasures 
Just a little while, ere they are fled ; 

One by one life robs us of our treasures ; 

Nothing is our own except our dead. 

They are ours, and hold in faithful keeping, 

Safe for ever, all they took away. 

Cruel life can never stir that sleeping ; 

Cruel time can never seize that prey. 

Justice pales ; truth fades ; stars fall from heaven ; 

Human are the great whom we revere ; 

No true crown of honor can be given. 

Till the wreath lies on a funeral bier. 

How the children leave us — and no traces 
Linger of that smiling angel band ; 

Gone, for ever gone ; and in their places. 

Weary men and anxious women stand. 

Yet we have some little ones, still ours ; 

They have kept the baby smile, we know, 

Which we kissed one day, and hid wdth flowers, 
On their dead white faces long ago. 

When our joy is lost, and life will take it, — 

Then no memory of the past remains. 


THE MONTANAS. 


301 


Save with some strange, cruel things, that makes it 
Bitterness beyond all present pains. 

Death, more tender-hearted, leaves to sorrow, 

Still the radiant shadow, fond regret; 

We shall find, in some far bright to-morrow, 

Joy that he has taken, living yet. 

Is love ours, and do we dream we know it, 

Bound with aU our heart-strings, all our own ? 

Any cold and cruel dawn may show it, 

Shattered, desecrated, overthrown. 

Only the dead hearts forsake us never: 

Love, that to death’s loyal care has fled, 

Is thus consecrated ours for ever, 

And no change can rob us of our dead. 

So when fate comes to besiege our city. 

Dim our gold, or make our flowers faU, 

Death, the Angel, comes in love and pity, 

And to save our treasures, claims them all. 

Littell’s Living Age. 

Yes, our dead were ours in truth; though a wide rough 
world lay between us, yet how brightly shone hope on the 
journey o’er which we should pass to join them in one 
of those far bright to-morrows, whose nights were under 
the eternal stars. There was no denying the space in my 
life ; a space all shadowed by a grave in spring-time ; though 
the chords of my soul were swept by a spirit-hand, and 
that space outstretching towards the broad everywhere in 
the dim-lying future, could be filled by no lesser radiance. 
I had loved him! There was glory in that one great 
truth, which no after prevarication could cancel or circum- 
stance annul; the destiny of two souls lay in its wide 
compass. I knew that I lived on in that dead heart, passed 
beyond the reach of time and change. It was a higher will 


302 


THE MONTANAS, 


tlian chance that placed this burden on my life. There 
was enough of joy in this consciousness to palliate the hun- 
ger in my desolate heart. God, who is God of the van- 
quished, as well as of the victor and the fallen, was his 
God ; in this trust there was a holy peace. 

Another change had come to pass in Eaymond’s home ; 
a little daughter was added to the household. Before Ala 
died the parents had wished for a son ! Now they were glad 
it was otherwise. Little Jamie, Leah’s child, had been 
adopted as their own ; not to fill the lost one’s place, we 
could not have, borne that — but he had grown into our 
hearts strangely of late. Leah’s gratitude was boundless, 
but William Kingswell never heard her thanks, though it 
was he who brought the matter about. 

This spring-time brought home Frederick Seaman from 
a long tarrying over seas. He had made a great deal 
of money. Not daring to visit Leah in person, he wrote 
several letters, asking for her hand ; proposing to relinquish 
all claims to the child, which bore its mother’s name. Leah 
manifested the true dignity, latent in her character, by omit- 
ting to give heed to his proposals in whatever shape they 
came. He had wooed and won her once, and then betrayed 
her trusting love. For her faith in him she had endured 
years of ignominy and shame ; he exhibited no penitence 
that he had caused her to sufier. She had been weak, very 
weak, but now she could be strong, for right was on her 
side. By our aid she had worked her way up from mazes 
of sin, and stood firmly in God’s clear light once more. 
We were rejoiced to feel that our confidence was not mis- 
placed. 

Captain Bob Eldridge, on his death-bed, sent for William 
Kingswell. I was at Ridgely when the summons came. 
Poor old man, whose sense of shame was stronger than 


THE MONTANAS. 


303 


the ties of natural affection — who could never bring him- 
self to exercise forgiveness towards others, not even his own 
kindred, now had need himself to be forgiven. He had 
come down to that last strait in life when we all feel 
more or less our dependence aud reliance upon one another. 
When Clyde’s uncle went to him I pleaded to go too ; I had 
found my way by his side, up many a steep of suffering, 
since Clyde left me in the wide world, with no destiny 
only to work my way to him once more. 

I had not seen Capt. Bob since we went to ask of him a 
home for Leah and her nameless child. Xow I pitied the 
old man from my soul ; over those stormy gorges of pas- 
sion he had not found the pathway clear to God’s love and 
peace. He had gone down hill ever since ; the room yawned 
with the meagreness of its few articles of furniture. He 
lay upon a miserable pallet, made of blankets soiled and 
torn — the grey old miser, alone in crowds, and childless in 
sight of his children ; in want, with plenty to make him 
independent. A few minutes after we entered, a young 
man came in, bringing a bowl of gruel from a neighboring 
restaurant. I observed him narrowly while he ministered 
to the feeble old man, who vouchsafed a few words to him 
in return for his kindness. 

“ Now lay me down, Fred.” Then, turning to Mr. Kings- 
w'ell, he said in tones broken with misery : 

“ Of all the friends and messmates who flocked about me 
in my days of prosperity, he alone has volunteered to stand 
by me in this bitter hour.” 

Ah ! thought I, long years ago he had denied his only 
child that privilege, and Fred. Seaman was the cause there- 
of. He looked abashed in presence of ^Ir. Kingswell, and 
said, half-apologetically, with a dash of his old spirit : (I 
realized who it was that poor Leah so loved. Oh, had his 


304 


THE MONTANAS. 


principle been strong enough to sustain those generous and 
tender impulses, how different it might have been with 
both ! Perchance they had not then come under the hard 
ban of the transgressor.) 

I found the old man on the street when I returned from 
abroad. He, you are well aware, is father to the woman 
who should have been my wife. I have come often to his 
shelter-tent, and shall continue to do so while he needs me, 
which, I imagine, will not be for long. He wished to see 
you— that is why I sent the message which you have so 
promptly responded to, I do not think he is quite satis- 
fied that I am by his side, though if I had not chanced 
to be here he might have died alone. Mr. Kingswell, you 
are a good man, a God-fearing man ; you will acquit me in 
this matter of any motive save that of trying, in a very 
slight measure, to atone for the wrong done to parent and 
child. I do not want the wealth that he has hoarded; I 
could never be brought to touch a penny of it ; I should 
accept nothing save that which he once refused to bestow 
upon me — which, after having won, I trifled away, because 
I had not moral strength to keep it. This gift and favor 
you may have it in your power to confer upon me ; at least, 
you may influence matters to that end, when I have re- 
purchased my integrity, and earned an honest man’s right to 
ask it of you, who, for a long time, have been her only friend. 
Almost six years ago, when you picked me up on the hill- 
side, a miserable drunkard, and I heard your pitying words, 
I resolved to do this thing, though there were scores of 
good Pharisees crying : ‘ He is lost ! ’ Ah, yes ! Lost, 
with God’s world around me, and my manhood within ; 
lost,^ because they infused to lift me from my fallen estate 
and stand me on my feet again; lost, because at the man- 
date of such, society had barred her gates against me, and 


THE MONTANAS. 


305 


against the woman whom passion, not love, had profaned ; 
and upon the brow of each of us had written that damning 
word — outcast! No, no; not all lost! In the mazes of 
my beastly intoxication, I heard your words ringing clear 
in my understanding heart : 

^ When I see a man thus debased and fallen, I do not feel 
like thanking God that I am not as that man is, but that 
I have not been tempted as he has been.’ 

“ Ah, sir, those words saved me ! Not feeling strong 
enough to climb the steep passes to the world’s favor here, 
I fled from temptation. Since I crossed the ocean I have 
not tasted ardent spirits. From my old boon compa- 
nions, who did not forget me, I learned how the same dis- 
ciple who had uplifted me in my sorrowful abasement, had 
taken to his own home the victim of my wrong. I resolved 
to show you that there is no man, however low he may 
have fallen, who, by a little timely aid, may not reform, 
if there are any to point the way. Had you spurned me, 
as did others of your set, I might now be consumed by 
those still flres which the waters of repentance sometimes 
fail to quench.” 

“ Who dare be silent, when by chance they may speak 
so strong a word for God and man ? ” thought I, while 
young Seaman continued to talk : 

“ There is a secret which not even poor Leah knows ; the 
old man may tell you — I have done ; ” though he stood 
still holding his hat as though there was something he 
would say. Then in a husky voice, through which trickled 
the tears that were in the hazy air of that spring-time, he 
continued : 

“ K you will allow me, I would like to ask you about 
Leah, though I feel that she is much too good for me. I 
should not come a second time to seek her, did I not be- 


306 


THE MONTANAS. 


lieve her, of all the women I have ever known, the most w- 
tuous — the most upright by nature. No man, unless by 
the same avenues of her strong love through which I led 
her, could ever win her as I did. Knowing this, I suppli- 
cate of you the gift of her hand in marriage. I will not 
ask this of her father ; had he not once denied Leah to me, 
it might have been different. My mother is anxious and 
willing now to receive her as my wife. As for the child, I 
am glad for his sake that your son has adopted him ; I 
have forfeited the right to claim him. I shall hear your 
decision.” 

“ Nobody shall claim the right to provide for that child 
except myself,” exclaimed Captain Bob, almost fiercely. 
‘‘ My money shall be his ! Since poor Alice died, and 
Leah left me, I have toiled on for his sake to this end. My 
old, desolate heart yearned over him ; but I gave no sign, 
for he was in William KingswelFs house.” Then turning 
to Clyde’s uncle : “ Send the girl away — I have something 
I must say : the night is coming on, and I would be alone 
with you.” 

It was growing late and we left them, Fred and I — the 
righteous and the unforgiving together — and came down 
the hill trampling the daisies of spring beneath our feet. 
I had been both pleased and affected at the young man’s 
recital ; so much so, I promised to use my influence with 
Leah for his sake. Thus it came about, that this man, 
whom I had long held in superstitious horror, aloof from 
my thoughts even, because of his wrong to my friend, 
now that I had met him face to face, and saw suffering 
where before I had seen only sin ; had recognised his gene- 
rous self-abnegation, his tender love and manly truth; 
I found myself espousing his cause ere I was aware of it. 
I had come, reader, to feel what we all must, should those 


THE MONTANAS. 


307 


in whom we have an interest err and fall — to separate the 
sinner from the fault, and not confound the first wrong step 
which may be retraced, with an after career of abandon- 
ment. I trust none of us can have sympathy or affiliation 
with hardened guilt ; yet it is only Christian-like to 
discriminate between those who sin from impulse 
against principle, and those who have no principle to 
violate. 

During our walk home, Fred told me what I was puzzled 
and confounded to hear, exhorting me, at the same time, 
not to repeat it until the season came in which it might be 
revealed. That night, with Stanley’s* golden head lying 
close to mine, looking over the starry way to heaven, I 
pondered of that strange revelation. 

Mr. Kingswell prevailed upon Captain Bob to see Leah. 
Thus, in the presence of God and the dying, she and Fred 
renewed their vows. Little Jamie, too, was brought by 
Eaymond to kiss the withered cheek of his grandsire. He 
returned home carrying a bag well filled with gold coin, 
which the old man had given him with his own hand just 
before he passed away. After that conference with William 
Kingswell, Captain Bob Eldridge seemed well contented to 
go, and waited patiently for the time to come when his 
master should call him. I know not what Clyde’s uncle 
said to him from time to time, but the messages were those 
of peace, which came with its golden tides coursing like 
the river of my dream which broke its billows, now, on dim, 
far shores of the eternal. The members of that widely- 
sundered band were drawn together by the shining links 
of that peace, bound fast for time to come. Then by the 
grave in the field where the poor of Way burn were buried, 
another grave was made, and two white stones reared side 
by side in the spring-time : the voice that had prayed that 


308 


THE MONTANAS. 


strange, solemn prayer of faitli when Ala slept, was up 
raised here. 

After a few days — in the old church, in the bright village 
green — Leah and Fred were married. In the very presence 
of Mr. Seaman and those who had dared to cry her down, 
she became the wife of this young man, who belonged to 
one of the first families in the place. Notwithstanding the 
array of hollow smiles and malicious home-thrusts incident to 
such occasions, there were many who were rejoiced that it 
was so, and who gave it as their opinion that Leah had 
only been justly dealt by. Mrs. Seaman said she always 
felt that Leah was a good girl, and ought to be encouraged ; 
so my friend, bearing no resentment, accepted the proffered 
hand of the woman who had always treated her in her 
neighbor’s house as in her own, as a menial, whose pre- 
sence she could barely tolerate. But that was all passed 
now ; Leah was justified by the world that had renounced 
her. 

I met Clyde’s uncle in the graveyard, one afternoon. 
He led me to a seat, very tender in manner ; he saw the 
tears upon my cheek. 

Jennie, I honor you for those tears ; I know how true 
to the dead your heart is, but you will, in time, become 
reconciled to the decree of Providence. You will love 
again ; you will marry.” 

I was wounded ; he felt that I was, for he took my hand, 
saying : 

“I must tell you the story of my youth; I believe there 
is some such cross in every life. We learn to bear it ; grow 
accustomed to the burden ; it is but just and right that it 
should be so.” 

“ Such a cross in every life ? Surely not in yours ? ” 

“ Yes ; one that well nigh drove me inad.” 


THE MONTANAS, 


309 


“ Long years ago, in a seaport town, I lived with my 
pious parents and only sister, in an old homestead, very 
quaint and curiously wrought, after the Puritan fashion. My 
father was generous and high-souled, a Mnd husband, a 
strong staff to my mother, who was blind. He had brought 
her from Scotland; a minstrel of wondrous beauty, he 
seemed to love her more for her entire dependence on him. 
In my sister there was early manifest a strange disposition 
to wander from the home-ways; whenever she heard a 
snatch of a song our mother had sung to us, she would 
follow the sound until she found the singer. Once or twice 
she lost herself in the vain attempt, and we were compelled 
to summon assistance in seeking her out. Alice grew up 
veiy beautiful ! Hers was a strange, classic beauty, superb 
in repose, and when animated is what men will dare all 
things and die for. Several gentlemen of wealth and re- 
finement, in our circle, sought her hand ; she gave heed to none 
of them, for her heart was untouched. It remained so un- 
til a stranger of great beauty — a wonderful singer, a sailor 
by occupation — knowing that we would never consent to 
the arrangement, sought her clandestinely. They had met 
by chance ; the acquaintance was well begun ere our know- 
ledge of it. With that perverseness which had always 
characterized her, my beautiful sister gave to the untaught 
sailor that which others had sought for in vain. He laugh- 
ingly boasted of having won 

“ ‘ The girl who gave to song what gold could never buy.* 

‘^We forbade him to see her again; then came the 
sequel : she fied with him, leaving no line to relieve our sus- 
pense. I had never believed his intentions to be honora- 
ble towards my sister ; now, of course, we feared the worst, 


310 


THE MONTANAS. 


and the shame bowed me to the very dust. My grief was 
purely selfish ; I was engaged to a beautiful girl, whose 
parents withdrew their sanction to our union because of 
the ignominy that had come upon our house. 

“ In my fierce sorrow, I thought only of my own hard 
loss, and did not pity, as I should have done, our poor, 
blind mother, who sat helplessly, day after day, moaning 
with hands outstretched piteously towards the sea, over 
which we supposed Alice had gone; and the old father, 
who stooped lower daily with the weight that was growing 
upon him. Ere long, we received a taunting letter from 
Alice’s betrayer, which I did not answer. Then one from 
her, in which she made no mention of her fault, even spoke 
as though she had not committed one, telling me she was 
very happy in her European home. This so exasperated 
me, I wrote to her bitterly, angrily, that she should never 
again manifest to me, by word or deed, the humiliating 
fact that we abode in the same world together. I after- 
wards regretted my harshness, when repentance was of no 
avail ; and not until other years with their trials came, did 
I realize how unkind I had been to my parents and to her. 
The grass grows green upon their graves now ; that old 
home has long been desolate. 

“ Oh ! how I mourned my broken dream ! Sorrow passed, 
leaving me only despair. I was too proud to supplicate 
for the hand that had once been given me ; yet only God 
knew what I suffered in the sundering of those bright 
bonds. She had been brought to believe that I no longer 
wished that she should be my wife. Nothing but this re- 
flection could have induced her to relinquish me ; my cold- 
ness and silence confirmed the belief incited by the doubts 
of her parents. 

“ They made known their wishes ; she, gentle, yielding, 


THE MONTANAS. 


311 


became the wife of a rich and elegant Southerner. I thought 
my heart was broken ! I fled before the profanation of my 
high hopes. I left home — came away from the hated 
scenes. Here, in this lovely spot, through its vales of 
quietness, by the rolling river-side and the light of morning- 
on those far hills, I found my way to God after a few years. 
When the Father had given me strength to go, I went 
home and remained until the old people were gone. She, 
too, was gone, my beautiful Edith, with her proud, haughty 
husband, to his southern home. Her grave is there now, 
under the flowers of this spring-time. 

“ Long afterwards, when it was little triumph to know the 
fact, I learned how deeply she had loved me. She wrote, 
on the death of her husband, telling me all ; asking me to 
be a father to her husband’s son. That son was Clyde In- 
gram ! She afterwards married your uncle ; Raymond and 
Stanley were her children. I loved them, but not as I 
loved Clyde — he was my own : his youth was passed with 
me here. You, Jennie, have often called me Clyde’s uncle ! 
I was your own as much as his. Shortly after Edith’s 
second marriage, I married Mary Mellville, whom I met 
on my return home, and brought her back with me to 
Way burn. She has been a good and true wife, and we 
have lived happily in the performance of our duties to each 
other and to God. There was in my feeling for her none 
of the wild, clinging tenderness of the former passion, but 
something deeper, truer, more enduring than the first. 
She is very dear to me now. Towards my son, the best 
beloved of my heart, I have performed the last duty. He 
never knew quite how well I loved him, or how I prayed 
after he had taken that one wrong step that he might come 
back to us, if only to die. My prayer, thank God, was 
granted. 


312 


THE MONTANAS. 


“As for my sister, I am rejoiced to know she did not fall. 
Captain Bob Eldridge, whom we knew, was Alice’s lawful 
husband; and Leah, the homeless outcast, to whom we 
gave shelter, was her child. Jennie, I have often read that 
sacred promise, ‘Cast thy bread upon the waters and it 
shall return after many days.’ Who could have guessed 
that little act of kindness would be thus requited; that we 
were extending charity to those of our own household ! 

“ Then we two came and stood by the graves ; every life 
is growing fuller of them in these battle-days ; the land 
seems one great burial-place. 

“ Our baby minstrel is singing to-night ! I often hear her 
little voice, and fancy I see her sweet eyes looking to me 
from the world of light : the radiance nestles and warms 
my soul.” 

For me the altar-fires of another love, too, were burning 
as we came up the broad street to Ridgely. I saw the 
fair round moon far over the New Hampshii*e hills, and the 
bright river ran crystal clear to the distant sea. The 
lights of our home shone sweetly as. we came from the 
shadows without into their brightness. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

“ Thou art the friend 

To whom the shadows of long years extend.” 

Bybon’s Childb Haeold. 

It was the anniversary of Stanley’s birthday. Our cottage 
was lovely to see ; we had woven wreaths for its pictures, 
and in each vine-trellised window we placed a nosegay of 


THE MONTANAS. 


313 


flowers from the garden walk, over which an angel’s feet 
had lately passed. Miss Phoebe, arrayed in her favorite 
gown, was preparing tea for our expected guests. 

First came Leah and Frederick, serenely happy ; then 
Eaymond, proud and handsome, with Mary, on whose face 
was the bloom of her youthful beauty, bringing their 
bright-haired boy and baby girl; a happy family, sorrow- 
chastened, but happy still. Then came Mr. and Mrs* 
Kingswell, calm, serene, as usual. 

Stanley was engaged in conversation with George Seaman, 
younger son of our old friend, who had avenged Stanley 
on his mother, by falling in love with her. The old lady, 
however, strongly urged the matter, and devoted all her 
energies to bring about this union. She worked assiduously. 
Miss Phoebe maliciously insinuated that she seemed more 
anxious after becoming aware of Clyde Ingram’s legacy to 
us. I could not fail to observe how intently she watched 
them, from a settee, over her round, bowed spectacles ; her 
countenance evincing the satisfaction she could not conceal. 
Well, she might have gone further, and found for her son 
no lovelier bride. Stanley was very beautiful that night. 
She wore a muslin of pure white, relieved only by brooch 
and pendants of jet; her curls flowed; again the bright 
crimson shone through her clear cheeks, and her eyes were 
bright as stars, lighted with a hope she could not have 
defined, and did not understand. Here beau-cavalier re- 
marked this, and she answered him gaily : 

“ It is my dress, I presume ; well, I have worn black for 
three years, and worked hard ; I feel free to-night, myste- 
riously happy ; why, I cannot say.” 

“ I wish I dared to hope that my presence 

He ceased to speak. Mr. Milverton came in ; in my 
greetings of him, I failed to perceive, for the rooms were 
14 


314 


THE MONTANAS. 


filling rapidly, tliat a stranger liadstepped in at tlie bay- 
window, wMcb opened on the garden patli. He stood 
bolding bis bat, heavily shrouded with crape, silently regard- 
ing the scene, himself unperceived. His hungry eyes were 
fixed on Stanley, as she gracefully crossed the room, with 
young Seaman, to w^elcome Milverton. He heard the 
officious mother say: 

“ Oh, yes ! I am sure they will be married very soon ; of 
course Miss Montana will not refuse my son ; I know she 
thinks the world of him, and he worships the very ground 
she walks on.” 

Just then the young man restored her fan, which she 
chanced to let fall. She thanked him, with a slight inclina- 
tion of her queenly head, and the smile so radiant it dazzled 
him more than her words. Both were misconstrued by 
the haughty stranger, who, in a paroxysm of intense pain, 
retreated, unrecognised. Milverton soon made known to 
me the facts in the case ; then I went into the garden to 
search for the renegade, whom I found pacing the walks like 
a madman. After shaking his hand warmly, and expressing 
my pleasure that we had met again, I said reproachfully : 

‘‘ Cousin Warren, is this your return for the love of that 
heart that was so true to you, even in its hopelessness ? ” 

“ Ah, Jennie, you know not how madly I love that 
woman ; as a girl she was never half so dear to me ; now 
to see an insipid villain sueing for her smiles ; and I cast 
off, forgotten.” 

“ Warren, for Heaven’s sake, desist ; are you deranged ? 
remember Stanley had no right to cherish of you the frailest 
memory. By so doing she would sin less against another 
than her own peace of mind. You forget she does not know 
that you are free ; I myself was not aware of it until you 
came here to-night.” 


THE MONTANAS, 


315 


“ That is sufficient reason for her having eschewed the 
memory of her former friend.” 

“ Warren, you are as unreasonable as ever; she is coming. 
I bade Milverton send her to me here : conceal yourself in 
the summer-house.” 

He obeyed. She came singing down the garden-way, 
her golden waves of hair brightening in the moonlight. 
How like a time of old breathed the enchantment around 
us to-night. 

“ Well, Jennie darling, what do you happen to want of 
me ? I left Mr. Milverton to play hostess in my place, 
while I came in answer to your summons.” 

“ Oh, a fit of musing blues, perhaps, drove me forth. I 
have been thiiiking of that first summer so long gone, and of 
the other thinors that have so chanored since then.” 

“ Try not to think about it at all, dear ; it only makes you 
sad. I try not to do so.” 

“ Nevertheless, that old dream of yours, Stanley, you have 
not forgotten.” 

“ Oh ! would that I could forget it, or that the memory 
was not so hopeless ; for, Jennie, a vision often crosses my 
daily work, of how another head is pillowed on the heart 
that should have been my own. It is very hard to think 
of, though. I am afraid I shall never be strong enough to 
live and remember no more ‘ what might have been.’ ” 

Ah ! cypress fiowers entwined with her orange wreath ; 
these withered where the fountain showered its diamond 
spray in drops that were countless as the tears we wept for 
that shadowy, unreal “ might have been.” 

“ Think of it no more, dearest, all that was so vain in 
the past ; greater happiness awaits you ; a joy that will not 
leave you, dear, as that did. Do not start, do not scream. 
Warren Hayne is a free man — ^his wife has been dead for 


316 


THE MONTANAS, 


fifteen montlis — ^lie is yours ; you shall see him within this 
hour.” 

I thought she was going to fall, she was so pallid. She 
clasped her hands wildly over her brow, unable to compre- 
hend her bliss, then said piteously : 

“Oh! don’t, Jennie; it has always been so vain.” 

“ Do not say it is vain any more, Stanley ; come to my 
heart, my own darling ; it shall be your home henceforth ; 
none shall ever take it from you now.” 

She ran into the arms outstretched, and was clasped to 
his true heart. 

“Warren, am I dreaming, is it true, shall it be at last, 
then ? ” 

“Yes, darling; pleasant dreams of a bliss too long defer- 
red, though blissful yet ; I thank God for my joy and your 
love.” 

The old caressing tones — how like music they were as he 
talked on. 

“We shall have another wreath of Northern orange 
blossoms, darling, for your golden hair. Ere we go back 
where I may look upon the faces of the good people assem- 
bled in your cottage home, you must name the day which 
will make me the happiest of men. I want to congratulate 
Mrs. Seaman 1 how cruel I am to have spoiled her plan of 
calling you daughter. Well, well, it matters little ; I have 
not forgotten her propensity to interfere with others less 
deserving than myself.” 

The moon came up, as I had seen her many a time, cheery 
and bright, above the New Hampshire hills. Those two 
passed down the garden-way, the glory round them, while 
I knelt in the silence and thanked God fervently. 

Milverton had announced Warren’s arrival. When we 
reentered the house all eyes were turned upon Stanley, 


THE MONTANAS. 


317 

who, flushed with her happiness, leaued gracefully upon 
the arm of her betrothed. Even Mrs. Seaman saw how it 
would be. 

The morning came — the morning of their bridal ; mists 
paled, and the noon welled in its tides of glory ; softly fell 
the evening-time. Ah ! those Wayburn bells ! they had 
chimed the hour of worship and the hour of death ; they 
had tolled when our graves were made — the graves where 
slept our dead. We never loved them more than in this 
hour of calm happiness in which we passed down the aisles 
of the lighted church, in view of the congregation assem- 
bled to witness the marriage ceremonies of Warren and 
Stanley. Then they two went forth bound together for 
time. Who would have thought it would all have ended 
thus ! 

Hoping much, I promised to go with Stanley to her new 
home ; we were to leave Way bum, with its sun-lighted paths ; 
its melting mists and hills of splendor ; its nights, with their 
watching stars; the graves that were wearing their sum- 
mer green, to live again in the world of fashion, whose 
doors were once more opened to us. There was a way, 
God’s way, in which Cousin Warren had never walked ; by 
the strength of his love for his wife we must lead him there. 

There was a merry party assembled in the square house at 
Eidgely upon the day succeeding the marriage. The cot- 
tage, with its belongings, was Mr. Kingswell’s bridal gift to 
Leah. She and Frederick were established in their new 
home ere we took Miss Phoebe to “New York to live with us. 

The patient reader who has gone with us through hours 
of discipline, who has smiled with us when gay, and wept 
with us when the grave-clods were falling, knows which 
most to hope or to fear for our future. It all rests with 
God. 


318 


THE MONTANAS. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

PEACE AND HOPE. 

/ 

“ Tho’ close the tie that bound them, yet hath Heaven 
A closer tie to the true-hearted given.” 

A TEAR has gone by ! A year full of momentous events, 
which would in themselves constitute a nation’s tragic his- 
tory. The armies of the Republic are being disbanded and 
the soldiers mustered out. Many, during the four years of 
war, have been mustered anew into the service of their 
God. The red tides have ceased their coursing through 
our land. Far-rolling over the crimson sea of revolution 
came the white billows of peace. By the grave-side of our 
illustrious dead were, the hearts in the whole land bowed 
down and once more united under the stars of our victori- 
ous banner. Once more the Sonthern braves came to rally 
round the old standard, whose constellations beam upon the 
broad fields where sleep the dead — men of the North and 
the South peacefully together — under the stars of heaven, 
and the tattered fiag waves over them. In the broad 
noonday of our renewed prosperity, I see the arching 
bow’ of promise spanning the heavens. There shall be 
no more waiting ; no more tears and death ; no more sacri- 
fices upon the altar of country ; no more souls added to 
those still fires of patriotism, which fiamed so fiercely in 
those long nights of strife. 

When postal communication was partially reestablished, 
there came a letter from Uncle Montana. During the first 
year of the rebellion, he barely existed in a Southern pri- 
son ; he was incarcerated for his Union sentiments. Upon 
the acquisition of New Orleans by the Federal forces, he 
told his story, and was released and placed in the service 


THE MONTANAS. 


319 


of the Government. During the three years of hard work, 
filling a responsible position, he laid by a sum of money 
which enabled bun to re-purchase Claremont of the authori- 
ties for a tithe of its original value. It was uncle’s desire 
to take us home again. The Brightland slaves were in 
the Southern service ; but Aunt Dinah, Hawsey, and many 
more of our female servants, were anxious that we should 
become reestablished in the old home once more. We 
would go South in the autumn ; the money which I in- 
herited from Clyde I would cheerfully expend in having 
the old things back as near as possible to what they were. 
I resolved to spend my summers with Stanley ; she and I 
together would visit Eaymond and Eidgely ; then we 
should all go to Claremont for the winter. I was almost 
happy in making plans ; of course, we might expect some 
deviations from our former style of living. For instance, 
we could never have again what death had taken from us. 

Lane Austin accepted the universal amnesty offered by the 
President, and came North to see us. My soldier had 
availed himself of that offered by Christ — the amnesty of 
Heaven. I was glad to see Lane, until he took my hand 
confidentially, telling me that he had loved me all his life. 
I answered earnestly : 

“ Lane, there is one other who has loved me thus, who 
loves me still, in that far world, beneath whose stars I stand 
in this night of my sorrowing for him on the earth. Yes; 
he loved me, and I him, when 


“ ‘ He went forth 

His princely way among God’s stars, in slow 
And silent brightness.’ 

‘‘I promised to join him in the glory yonder; I shall 


320 


THE MONTANAS. 


keep my word. In tke far-reacking solitudes of my wi- 
dowed heart no other idol shall ever come.” 

I was right. God had given me, in answer to my life- 
long prayer, that little hour of love, while the sun went 
down. I could sit in the shadowy twilight with my mem- 
ory, in whose powerful echoes, says Lamartine, “ there is 

only always ! ” waiting for the day-dawn, whose stars 

should sing together the song of triumph over the death 
which came between us. 

I wore no black for him who wore the white insignia of 
peace. My love had donned the snowy vestments of im- 
mortality. I saw the heavenly robes of the redeemed de- 
scending on the pale sleep through which his life rippled 
out. Again, at morning, beside a golden river, we should 
stand together — the bright-flowing river of everlasting life ! 

Oh, my love! though from the silence of thy death 
there comes no sound, yet solemnly I feel how 

“ Immortality o’er sweeps. 

AH pains, all tears, all time, aU fears, and peals 
Like the eternal thunders of the deep. 

Unto my ears this truth : thou Uv'st for ever 


THE END. 


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